


It Takes A Thief

by Saraleee



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Almost Drowning, Amnesia, BO5A happened, Depression, Dragon Sickness, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Revenger's Tragedy, Rio Bravo - Freeform, and even a touch of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, canon compliant with The Hobbit, dub-con, general skullduggery, references to major character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraleee/pseuds/Saraleee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori and Dwalin were companions in Thorin’s company, but not particularly close. Now the battle is over and King Dis, the sister of Thorin Oakenshield, is rebuilding Erebor.<br/>Dwalin is wracked by grief and guilt.<br/>Nori is bored with being rich. He can out-con any person anywhere, and he does. Until he gets caught.<br/>But how can the King punish one of the Heroes of Erebor? And how will she save another hero from self-destruction?  Good thing King Dis is a clever ruler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Set a Thief

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Thorinsmut's excellent stories of Dwalin and Nori. They are awesome and if you haven't read them yet, you should do so right away.  
> From Ts, I have borrowed King Dis, and the name of Kori as the parent of Dori, Nori and Ori. The raven matriarch may make an appearance eventually.  
> This Dwalin and Nori are not at all related to the versions of those characters that I have written about before.

“Let me get this straight. You _want_ me to steal?”

King Dis glared at the prisoner before her. “I want you to use your – skills – in the service of our people, Nori.”

She arose from the Raven Throne, magnificent in her bearing and stern of face. “Erebor is overrun. Dwarves are flooding into the mountain daily, claiming the ruined palaces for themselves and fighting off rivals for everything from caches of jewels to the wellsprings within the city. My guards can barely keep thieves out of the Royal Treasury, much less keep order in our streets. The lands beyond the mountain are barren. No farmer has sown crops there for generations of Men; there is little food to be had anywhere for miles.

“And amid the tent villages of dwarven refugees, the hopeful and the despairing, are criminals and con artists who seek to profit from the misery of our people. They cheat and they lie, they enslave the weak and credulous. My people starve, while evil-doers grow fat on their wickedness.

“I am offering you a choice, Nori son of Kori. Help me stop the criminals who prey on the dwarves of Erebor, or rot in my deepest prison for your crime.”

Nori shifted from foot to foot, shrugging his shoulders to ease the strain on his manacled arms. “Is this entirely fair, your Majesty? Compared to what these others are doing, my own transgression seems, well, minor.”

King Dis’ eyes blazed blue fire, her face a mask of anger. “You tried to convince Dain Ironfoot to have the Arkenstone itself set into the Raven Crown! It was a good thing he immediately turned you over to Dwalin, you shameless thief!”

Dwalin stood at King Dis’ side, massive arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing the golden armor of the King’s Guard. The big dwarf glowered in Nori’s direction, but there was an emptiness in his eyes that said he was barely seeing his former companion.

Nori and Dwalin hadn’t been all that close during the Quest for Erebor. They’d gotten along well enough; Dwalin was good to have on your side in a fight. But Nori had spent most of his time with his brothers, and Dwalin’s entire focus had been on protecting Thorin and the princes.

That hadn’t worked out so well. Everyone dies, and Nori might have expected that a warrior would know that. But apparently Dwalin had taken it hard.

“It would have looked good,” Nori protested. "Not my fault that Dain wasn't interested."

“Silence!” King Dis thundered. “You have been judged and convicted. All I want to hear from you now is whether you will accept my offer of clemency.”

Nori gazed contemplatively at King Dis. Despite her female gender, she’d chosen the title of King, making it very clear who was in charge. She made an impressive ruler, clever and wise and tough. She’d have to be, to handle the chaos of rebuilding Erebor. The situation was pretty much as she’d described it – lawless, wild, and attracting exactly the sort of people who thought to profit from the ambition and naivete of newcomers.

Not that Nori needed any profit. He was already so rich he didn’t know what to do with it all. He could buy anything, or anybody, he wanted – beautiful objects, adoring friends, exquisite experiences.

If he were going to be completely honest with himself, Nori would have to admit that he’d only tried that scam on Dain Ironfoot because he was bored.

Prison was boring. This idea of Dis’, now…

“Your offer – I’d like to hear more,” he said, eyeing the King cautiously.

King Dis sucked in a deep breath. "I want you to identify the worst criminals who are preying on the refugees. Find them. Stop them. Get proof of what they've done, and bring it to me."

Difficult. Possibly deadly. But definitely, _gloriously_ not-boring. "I accept."

King Dis nodded. "Very well. You will work with Dwalin. Ask him for whatever you need. Make sure he knows what you're doing at all times. He will be reporting to me on your progress."

The air punched out of Nori's lungs. At the edge of his field of vision he saw Dwalin stiffen, helmeted head jerking toward the King. At least the warrior hadn't known about that little detail either. Not that it made anything better.

Nori's eyes narrowed as he glared at King Dis. "I will not be kept on a leash. Especially not one held by one of your thick-witted guards. You might as well execute me now and be done with it."

"I will not set you loose among others of your own kind, thief. You already know Dwalin, and he knows you. He will help you in your task. You can rely on him. You will not be alone."

The cold air of the throne room bit through Nori's thin prison clothes and shivered up his spine. Alone, he could have done this job. It would have been tricky, but not impossible. But to attempt such a daring con while being watched constantly by the best-known guard in the kingdom? No.

Nori was a shadow, a rumor, a creature of many faces. He could blend into a crowd and disappear. Dwalin was unmistakable, larger than life and simpler than a stone.

In the treacherous waters of crime, he'd be a stone tied around Nori's neck.

"I did not agree to this," rumbled Dwalin.

King Dis turned a level gaze on the guard. "Do you remember the promise you made to me?"

Face twisting in pain, Dwalin looked away. "Yes."

"I'm holding you to your promise." She turned back to Nori. "I am not asking you to take Dwalin with you everywhere you go. But you will have to find a way to keep in contact with him, without being detected. Do you still accept?"

Nori looked at King Dis, then at Dwalin, whose face was still turned away. He thought about the prison cell where he'd been held in solitary confinement. This plan of Dis' could get him killed. No, it probably would get him killed.

He'd never expected to survive the Dragon, either.

"Get close to ruthless criminals, get them to trust me, get proof of their crimes and get out with a whole skin? While being watched every moment by the biggest, most conspicuous defender of the law in Erebor?" Nori shrugged. "Why not? Sounds like fun."

 


	2. The cold gray fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin isn't comfortable in his new role as Nori's official minder and secret collaborator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> depressive thinking.  
> suggestion of an improper relationship?  
> rough treatment.

Disgusting.

Dwalin had never seen this side of Nori before, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience.

“Sweet!” Nori stroked his hands over the lavish gold embroidery decorating the court robe his tailor held up. Every single one of Nori’s fingers wore a ring. The tailor tenderly folded the robe and laid it on the divan before bowing himself out.

The thief spread his arms wide and spun in a circle, as if embracing the spacious room they stood in. Thick stone pillars of polished granite inlaid with gorgeous patterns of malachite and porphyry held up the vaulted ceiling. Low upholstered divans covered with costly fabrics were scattered everywhere. Tapestries graced the walls and floor, keeping out drafts and bringing rich color and warmth to the space.

Dwalin scowled. Too flashy, too bright. For years, the dwarves of the Line of Durin had scrimped and struggled, cherishing every last scrap of their magnificent lost heritage. Their treasures _meant_ something. They didn’t have heaps of gaudy decorations purchased on a whim. If Thorin were alive, he would never have –

A jagged shard of pain ripped through his chest. Thorin was dead. After everything they had dreamed about, everything they had been through, Thorin had died moments before reaching the only prize he’d ever wanted. Now everything was dust and ash.

Thorin hadn’t lived to see Erebor restored to the dwarves. And it was Dwalin’s fault. He hadn’t fought hard enough, hadn’t stuck close enough to his King’s side…He pushed the punishing thoughts back into the cold gray fog at the bottom of his mind. _Concentrate._ Nori was talking again.

“This is perfect. Absolutely perfect,” Nori gushed to the skinny, bespectacled dwarf sitting calmly on a nearby divan. “Just what we need.”

“Yes sir,” she replied, making a note on her clipboard. “And Balder has returned with the equipment you requested.”

Dwalin couldn’t see how the dwarrowdam had known that, but she was right. As she finished speaking, the ambulatory rag-bag that went by the name of Balder entered the large living area, carrying a huge rectangular metal case. There was a small leather wallet on top of the case. He set both items down on a low table.

The dwarrowdam – her name was Vilna – smiled at Balder, who flashed a gap-toothed grin in return. They were Nori’s henchpersons. Vilna was a financial expert, who also performed the duties of a housekeeper and cook. She was tremendously efficient. Nothing within her control was ever wasted – not a single coin went unaccounted for, nor did she permit herself an unnecessary motion or even an extra ounce of flesh.

Balder was the most repellent dwarf Dwalin had ever met, and that was saying something. He was dirty, ragged, and seemed to be always half-drunk. But he knew everybody in Erebor, knew where to get his hands on any bizarre item Nori might require. Most surprisingly, when he chose to, his conversation revealed a fine and well-educated mind.

Balder and Vilna were married. They adored Nori, bad taste and all, criminal though he was. They practically had stars in their eyes whenever they spoke to him.

Dwalin couldn’t understand it. Didn’t they know who they were dealing with? Who Nori _was_? Not that it mattered. It was all worthless lies, dust and ashes. The gray fog flooded his mind as he glowered at them.

Nori tucked the small leather wallet in his pocket. Then he knelt down and opened the metal case. In it were thousands of little vials, bottles and jars, neatly couched in their own padded holders. Paints of some kind? Around the bottles were compartments holding scraps of fur and long hanks of hair of different shades. Disguises, perhaps?

“Excellent.” Nori closed the case. “This will go in the special room.” Balder nodded and took it away.

Vilna stood. “Dinner, sir?” she asked, and Nori nodded. She left so quietly she might have simply faded from view.

Then Nori turned to Dwalin. Pushing back the gray, uncaring fog, Dwalin got a grip on himself. King Dis had given him a direct order, and he was honor-bound to carry it out. But this was not what he was good at. This wasn’t what he was meant to do. And he just couldn’t bring himself to trust the thief.

He was sure Nori knew exactly how uncomfortable he was. The thief was enjoying it. Damn him.

“Right. You’ll have to leave by the front door today, since you’re here in your capacity as my official minder,” Nori’s voice sharpened on that last word. “But I want you to use another door for the less official visits. You’ll get your updates that way without us needing to meet.”

Nori led the way to a cold stone basement. Dwalin stumped heavily down the stairs behind him.

Dwalin listened as the thief explained how the secret door worked, and how to approach it without being noticed. It was a decent plan. A clever plan. He nodded.

“And if you’ll look over here,” Nori laid a hand on Dwalin’s arm to direct his attention to the slots, almost like natural cracks, in the wall. Dwalin stiffened. Curse the thief for touching him with such familiarity. What gave him the right – he pressed his lips tight together, willing himself not to react.  
  
“This is where you’ll find the messages waiting for you. Read them and memorize them; don’t take them with you. Too great a risk of paper going astray.”

Dwalin nodded again. He looked at the thief and it occurred to him that Nori was angry for some reason. Perhaps he’d hoped that a Hero of Erebor wouldn’t be punished for his crime. Instead, King Dis had saddled him with this impossible task.

The thief’s next words confirmed that. “Don’t screw this up. You may be a hero on the battlefield, but this is nowhere near as simple as killing orcs. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but a stone block around my neck.”

“I’m not happy about this either,” he replied. He was a stone block, he knew that. If he’d been luckier, he wouldn’t be here to have this conversation. He’d have died a hero, and would have been in the Halls of Waiting by now.

Nori sat down on the rough stone bench beside the secret door, obviously put there as a place to sit while memorizing the messages concealed in the wall. The thief lounged back, hands laced behind his head, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.

He looked up at Dwalin, all apparent friendliness. “So, Dwalin, tell me. Were you and Thorin just friends, or did you ever…” He made a gesture.

In a bright flash of rage, Dwalin reached out and grabbed the smaller dwarf by the tunic-front, hauling him up until they were nose to nose. “No! Don’t _ever_ talk to me about Thorin, thief.”

Nori was hanging by his clothes, feet off the ground, but his face showed only calm, ice-cold glee. He sneered, “Guess you put him up on a pedestal so high, you couldn’t reach him.”

The thief’s new tunic ripped as Dwalin’s hands tightened involuntarily. “One more word and I’ll kill you now.”

Nori’s expression was unmoved, his voice iron-hard. “Put. Me. Down.”

Dwalin stared into Nori’s eyes. He couldn’t kill him. He wasn’t a monster, not yet. Empty, maybe, but not that far gone. He let go and the thief landed sure-footed and graceful.

The smaller dwarf jerked his clothes into place, and glared up at Dwalin. “Let’s get one thing straight. King Dis gave me a job, and I’m going to do it. I don’t need you to like me. But I will not get killed just because you’re having personal problems.”

Dwalin trapped Nori against the wall, one hand on either side of his head. He leaned in close enough to feel the other’s breath on his face. “While we’re getting things straight, thief, let me tell you King Dis is making a big mistake. My personal problems are none of your business. And if you ever say anything about Thorin again, I _will_ kill you.”

Nori was breathing hard, looking wide-eyed into Dwalin’s face. So he wasn’t as cool as all that—at least Dwalin had managed to scare him. Maybe he’d think twice before taunting him again.

Dwalin kept his face close to Nori’s for a long moment, searching for an answer in those narrow, almost delicate features. Mahal, how could he let this thief, this sly, slippery, sneering criminal, get under his skin like that? It was scary to think that, for one brief instant of rage, the world had been filled with color and feeling again. He hadn’t realized how dead he’d felt, and for how long.

How could it be, that this thief had made him feel alive once more?

The thought bothered him long after he’d left Nori’s opulent new palace.


	3. A shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori goes to gather information.
> 
> Warnings for an unrealistic portrayal of prostitution

As he made his way out to the tent village along the banks of the River Running, Nori considered the irony of working with Dwalin, of all people, on King Dis’ secret mission.

Dwalin, descendant of the House of Durin. Cousin to the King. Noble warrior, hero of Erebor and of Moria, he was everything a dwarf was meant to be: Indestructible, ferocious, and loyal to his incorruptible core.

And this paragon had been ordered to work with Nori – the shady descendant of an undistinguished dwarven family, a thief, liar and con-artist (but a _very good_ thief, liar and con artist, his pride insisted). Too slender, too twisty-minded -- and, when the chips were down, much too concerned about saving his own sorry hide to be a hero.

During the quest for Erebor, the two had been cordial but not close. Dwalin had tried to intimidate him at first, but Nori had quickly shown him what a bad idea that was. Once they’d figured out where they stood with one another, they’d brushed along well enough.

But there was no reason why they would get to know each other. No reason at all. Dwalin’s full attention had been on Thorin and the princes. Nori – well, Nori had had his brothers, sweet little Ori and overbearing mother-hen Dori, to deal with.

Nori and Dwalin had hardly even looked at one another. Oil and water; they would never mix.

Perhaps there had been a few times when Dwalin and Nori had shared a laugh along with the rest of the company: Bag End had been fun. And in Rivendell, abusing the elves, breaking up furniture and causing minor havoc had partly made up for the terrors they’d encountered up until that point – trolls and wargs and orcs.

So much had happened since then.

Nori walked between the rows of tents, some decked with colorful washing that flapped in the late summer breeze like flags. Clusters of people, mostly dwarves, sat on the ground beside the open tent flaps. Children and dogs darted in and out among the canvas walls. A few of the more enterprising folk were offering trinkets for sale, carefully laid out on blankets before them.

He nodded to a tall, dark-haired Dunlending man who was lounging beside a large, khaki-colored tent, one hand on the hilt of a wicked-looking saber. Hard black eyes scanned the area. Then the man nodded back at Nori, two short quick nods.

Nori walked on. He would save that visit until later. Right now, he was going to have to do something about his shadow.

He jerked his head quickly to the left, as if he’d suddenly noticed something, and ducked between two tents. Once he was out of sight of his pursuer, he slid noiselessly through the tangle of tents, under clotheslines and over tent-pegs, around corners until he’d almost made it to the little stand of trees that stood a ways off, near the riverbank.

He checked side to side, then sprinted toward the trees and crashed through the concealing brush.

A second crash sounded, and a big dwarf body landed almost on top of him. Nori twisted up and over, wrestling the other to the ground, straddling his captive with a knife to the throat.

Dwalin.

“Mahal’s bloody hammers!” Nori cursed. “What is the _matter_ with you?”

“We’re supposed to be working together,” Dwalin growled. He was lying on his back, one big hand wrapped around Nori’s wrist to keep the knife-point from digging into his skin.

“That doesn’t mean you can follow me around,” Nori said angrily, keeping his voice low. The two of them were mostly concealed by the bushes, but people came and went near this spot all the time. They would be heard. “I can’t be seen with you. People know who you are. How do you think I’m going to convince anyone to trust me, if the King’s watchdog is my constant shadow?”

“ _I_ don’t trust you,” muttered the King’s watchdog.

Silently, Nori sent up an exasperated prayer to Mahal, begging to be saved from noble idiots and the Kings they obeyed.

He was about to explain that he would gather information alone, and then report back to Dwalin on what he’d found out, when he heard voices and laughter close by. A courting couple – the woman giggling, the man’s voice coaxing.

Nori froze. Dwalin stilled beneath him. They were about to be discovered.

He leaned down and whispered, “Work with me here.”

Sliding his hips back and forth on Dwalin’s chest, he groaned out loud. “SO good.”

Dwalin’s face was priceless. Bright red, outraged, ready to explode. Quickly, Nori raised up on his knees and then slammed himself down hard on the big dwarf’s chest, forcing the air out of his lungs with a deep, involuntary growl.

"Aaaarrrgh," said Dwalin.

The woman gave a little shriek of dismay, and the couple hurried away.

Dwalin tossed Nori off him, roaring in fury. “You –“

Nori was helpless with laughter. “Your face!”

He felt himself being yanked up by his tunic again, brought face to face with Dwalin.

“Do you think this is a joke?” the big guard hissed.

Nori shook his head, got himself back under control. “You’re the one turning this into a joke. If you want King Dis’ plan to work, you have got to let me do it my way.” He looked Dwalin straight in the eye. “I happen to agree with her goal. This is the right thing to do. Just let me do it.”

The big dwarf was frowning and searching Nori’s face again, as if looking for clues to some mystery. His eyes were a piercing blue, filled with anger and a hint of confusion, but for once it seemed like Dwalin was actually _seeing_ him. Trying to understand him.

It was so much more than he’d ever done before.

The big hands twisted in his tunic were loosening their grip. Dwalin was relaxing, letting him go. Maybe this was a beginning. Maybe they could – work together?

Nori said, “I’m making contact with some people I know down here. I’ll get their opinion on the situation, then I’ll share what I’ve learned. With you.”

Dwalin nodded.

“You’d best leave by walking up along the river. Don’t go back the way you came. Don’t follow me. Don’t even look in my direction too much.” Nori permitted himself a small smile. “People will talk.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes, but he left, following Nori’s instructions.

Once he felt sure that Dwalin was headed back to Erebor, Nori returned to the khaki-colored tent he’d passed before. The Dunlending was no longer standing outside.

Nori scratched on the tent flap. “Hello, darling, I’ve brought you something.”

A large hand reached out and took him by the arm, pulling him inside. He went easily.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, Nyr, my sweeting,” said the man whose hand had reached out for Nori. He settled the dwarf on his lap. This man was short for one of the race of Men, dark-complexioned, with his hair in long dreadlocks down his back. His body was impressively muscular, and he wore nothing but a short kilt around his loins and plenty of golden jewelry. “What did you bring me?”

Nori brought out a golden torc, beautifully wrought with two lion-heads facing each other on opposite ends of the C-shaped band of metal. “You can wear it here,” he said, touching the man’s large biceps.

“Gorgeous,” the man said, hugging Nori tight. Then he turned to call over his shoulder, “Sieg! Come look what Nyr has brought us.”

The Dunlending appeared from behind a curtain, his saber in his hand. He took Nori’s offering of jewelry. “Pretty bauble,” he said, nodding. “It will look good on Ceol’s arm. Nice to keep, and not have to sell for food. Thanks.”

Nori shrugged, slightly embarrassed. He had so much, and too many other people had so little. The Dunlending disappeared through the back wall of the tent again, out of sight but within hearing, and always vigilant as Ceol plied his trade. He was Ceol’s partner in life as well as his protector. Together, the two of them knew practically everything that happened in the tent village.

“So, my sweeting, what can I do for you today?” Ceol said, his arms comfortably around Nori’s waist. “Did you come to play?”

Nori cocked his head. “Talk first, then play.” He skimmed one hand over the man’s muscular shoulder. Powerful, strong, and still gentle. Just the way he imagined … his ideal dwarf would be.

Ceol nodded. “Come into my bedroom, and we’ll get comfortable. Ask me what you want to know, and then I’ve got a surprise for you too – I’ve learned some new words in Khuzdul, just for you.”

Pleased, Nori laughed under his breath. “Did you, now?”

“Of course. Anything for you, Nyr.”


	4. Holding on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin reports to King Dis.  
> Also, the Raven Matriarch.
> 
> NOTE: I've borrowed from Thorinsmut again. This time, I borrowed the name Vili for Dis' deceased husband, the father of Kili and Fili. (sorry, I just noticed this)

Dwalin sighed as he climbed the winding stone staircase to King Dis’ private sitting room. His impassioned promise to the female King of Erebor was turning out to have been a major mistake.

 _Anything you ask of me, I will do or die in the attempt,_ he’d said.  
 _Your slightest wish is my command,_ he’d said.  
 _I am your loyal dwarf, my King,_ he’d said.

He had spoken right after they had buried Thorin and his nephews – Dis’ brother, and her two sons. Dwalin, raw with grief, had meant every word. But he hadn’t expected her to ask him to do _this_.

Too late now. He kept climbing.

Although she still held audiences with important dignitaries in the great Throne Room, she usually worked in her sitting room high in a stone spire on the mountain. It was cozy and light, and nearly impossible to spy on. Also, the ravens liked it.

Dis had formed a fast friendship with the Matriarch of the Ravens. Perhaps they made an odd couple but Dis was, after all, the King, and the Raven was a ruler as well. It was something they had in common.

“Ah, Dwalin, there you are,” King Dis said as Dwalin bowed slightly before entering the room. “I ordered some mead for us. And Dori sent up some lovely biscuits, too.” She nodded to a dish covered with a heavy silver dome.

He grabbed a few biscuits with one hand, picked up a golden goblet of Erebor’s finest honey mead with the other, and sat down.

King Dis was making jewelry. An oval tray with deeply indented channels sat on the table before her. Snippers, pliers and loops of wire rested close to hand. Small boxes held polished gemstones and beads. The Raven Matriarch watched alertly, her bright black eyes fixed on the shiny treasures.

Her head bent over her work, Dis asked, “So how goes Nori’s mission? What has he learned?”

Dwalin snorted. His mouth was full of biscuit, so he was spared from answering for a moment or two.

Truth was, Nori was driving him crazy. All that red-brown hair, all that smooth-talking cocky attitude.

Nori could be loaded down with chains and threatened with lifelong imprisonment, and he would still be charming and impertinent to the King.

Nori could lie to you with a smile on his face. He could steal your gold and give it to his friends. He could laugh while he stabbed you in the heart.

 _How did he do it_ , Dwalin wondered. He was a terrible dwarf. He was shifty and irresponsible and wasteful. And yet everybody liked him.

People didn’t really like Dwalin. No one had ever accused him of being charming. He was not very sociable, choosing to associate only with the few family members who knew and accepted him.

So few – and now three of those cherished few were gone.

These days, the person he spent the most time with was Nori. Nobody could have been more different from Dwalin. Or more different from Thorin.

“He moved into that fancy palace you made me get for him. Decorated it in the worst taste possible. And now he doesn’t even live there.”

Dis looked up, her eyebrows raised. “He doesn’t?”

The Raven Matriarch stabbed her beak at a box of lapis beads, and Dis swept one long sleeve over the box just in time. “Tut-tut,” Dis said to the Raven with a smile. “No stealing.”

“Just looking,” the Raven said, with a little coughing sound that was probably laughter. She ruffled her feathers and clicked her beak, then began eyeing the contents of a different box.

“No. He asked for it, but never uses it. The only people who actually live there are those two oddities he hired, Vilna and Balder.” Dwalin shook his head. “Now he lives down in the tent village. I’ve seen him out there juggling and chatting with people under the trees where they all gather to drink zul.”

Dis’ head was down over the beading tray again. She shrugged her shoulders a little. “I suppose he’s investigating, as I asked him to do.”

Dwalin grudgingly had to agree. Nori did seem to be doing what he said he’d do. Ferreting out information seemed to come easily to him. Yet another talent he had.

Like having eyes in the back of his head. How had Nori even known he was being followed the other day? Dwalin was sure he had stayed out of sight. Nori hadn’t even looked back once, and yet somehow he’d known he was there. _How did he do it?_ Dwalin heard a crunch, and looked down at the thin golden goblet in his hand. It was crushed.

Dis sighed and rang for a servant. “Please bring Dwalin some zul. In a heavy pewter tankard.”

The servant wiped up the mead and removed the goblet he’d destroyed.

Dwalin set the silver dome to one side and took some more biscuits. “Nori said that the biggest problem they have in the tent village is a wealthy merchant dwarf by the name of Spiall. He’s the only one who has any food to sell, and he charges high prices because everything is scarce. The argument is that he’s the only one who has enough money to bring in goods from far away.”

Dis shook her head. “It’s wrong, but I don’t see what I can do about that.”

“Rumor has it that he’s sabotaged some small farms to keep them away from the tent village, and the credit he extends to the poor villagers only gets them in deeper debt. Worse, Nori says his bullies demand protection money from the villagers, and will beat up anyone who refuses.”

She frowned. “Do you have proof?”

Dwalin shook his head. “Not yet. Nori also says that some of the poor people think it’s a tax for living near Erebor. They’re starting to blame you, Your Majesty.”

The King’s eyes widened in outrage. “By Mahal’s bloody beard! Arrest them now!”

Dwalin held up his hands, palms out. “No proof. Yet.”

“ _Get_ me proof,” she said grimly.

The Raven Matriarch flapped her wings and hopped over to the biscuits. Dwalin watched her dispose of the remaining treats, not really seeing her. He shook his head. “Frerin and Vili, Thror and Thrain, and now Thorin and the boys...”

“Don't, Dwalin,” Dis said softly. Her blue eyes, so like Thorin's, were full of tears.

The Raven Matriarch looked up from the crumb-filled plate, bright eyes focused on Dis. She hopped back over to settle on the back of the King's chair, making gentle _prrk_ sounds. Dipping her sleek black head, she rubbed her beak comfortingly against Dis' midnight hair.

“I have a duty to the people. I have to set my own needs aside, so that we all can keep going.”

Dwalin sighed. “And is it worth it, keeping us all going?”

“Yes, it is,” she said with certainty. “Life is like music. You enjoy the sound of each note, and then you let it go. If you held onto one single note, if you didn't let go, there wouldn’t be a melody anymore.”

“I want to hold on,” Dwalin said.

King Dis shook her head. “You can't hold on. Let the music play. And get me that proof.”

 


	5. More that what you see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Nori meet to discuss the investigation.

 

That impatient banging on the door had to be Dwalin.  He’d arrived sooner than Nori expected – Dwalin _had_ been following his lead, but Nori hadn’t made it easy for the big guard.

 “Welcome to my humble abode,” Nori said as he let Dwalin in.

 He firmly squelched the tiny flutter in his stomach. Dwalin was _supposed_ to be here. They had to talk somewhere. The palace was too open; the tent-village was out of the question. So it had to be here, in the room that was Nori’s private space.

It was very unlikely that Dwalin would be able to find this place again. In leading him here, Nori had doubled back and twisted around several times, just to be safe. He would lead him back the same way.

Dwalin walked in, filling the room with his over-sized presence as he looked around. There wasn’t much to see; in his real home Nori liked things plain and simple, with just one or two good pieces to look at. Too much stuff attracted the notice of thieves.

“Nice,” Dwalin said, with a tinge of surprise in his voice. “Comfortable.”

Nori folded his arms, torn between irritation and pleasure. Of course it was nice. It was _his place_.

Dwalin picked up the sica which Nori had set on the narrow mantelpiece, handling it with the respect that such a gorgeous and deadly dagger deserved. It was a lovely thing made by an Easterling smith, slightly curved, double-edged, its hilt and scabbard intricately engraved with twining vines of silver.

“Haven’t seen one of these for a long time,” Dwalin said, sliding the blade part-way out of the scabbard and turning it over to inspect both sides. “And never one this fine. An Easterling would kill you before he gave up such an elegant weapon.”

“That idea did cross the Easterling’s mind,” Nori said dryly.

Dwalin smiled. It was a genuine smile, appreciative and almost friendly. Nori was staggered by the change it made in the warrior’s usually fierce expression.

“Last campaign when I was out that way, the Easterlings used these blades to hook around the edge of your shield.” Dwalin shook his head. “Very dangerous.”

Nori sat down on the divan, stretching one arm out along its back and crossing his legs at the knee. “I’m impressed. I wouldn’t have expected the dwarves of Erebor to have traveled so far on their military campaigns.”

“Oh, yes. Thror and Thrain both were wild to build a new home for the dwarves. They hated making do with poor lodgings in exile, as they called the Blue Mountains,” Dwalin explained.  “So, all of us warriors got to travel. Wonderful opportunity, you know – visit foreign lands. Experience different cultures. Meet exotic new people, that sort of thing.”

Nori raised his eyebrows. “You met exotic new people?”

“Not exactly met,” Dwalin said. “More like killed.” 

“Ah, warrior humor,” Nori said.

Dwalin shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got.”

Nori watched the big dwarf as he moved restlessly around the room. “Did you always want to be a warrior?”

“It was what I was good at. And once I made it through the army training camp, war was like another day on the training grounds.” Dwalin gave a mirthless laugh. “The general who trained us, Thekk, had a reputation for killing his recruits. We hated him, but by the time we actually got to battle, we were ready for it.”

He spotted the viol that Nori had recently gotten himself, and picked up the instrument and its bow. “You play the viol?”

Nori shook his head. “Flute. But I thought I’d teach myself.”

Dwalin tucked it under his chin and drew the bow across the strings, then stopped to tune it with a couple turns of the pegs. Satisfied, he played a few bars of a jig, then switched to a darker, more stately melody. In the warrior's big rough hands the viol had become a living thing, spilling out songs like a crystal waterfall of notes before plunging down into a deep well of emotion.

He stopped, lowering the viol. “Haven't played in so long—but it feels good. Relaxing. Maybe I’ll take it up again.”

“You should.”

Well, this was turning out to be a day of surprises. First finding out Dwalin had traveled, then that he had a sense of humor, and now he played the viol like a master? Astonishing.

Dwalin held the viol out to Nori. “Let's see how you're doing with it.”

“No, no. I barely even know how to hold it properly.” That was the last thing Nori wanted to do, show how bad he was at – at doing anything, really. He'd had a lifetime to learn the consequences of ineptitude: For a thief, being less than excellent could lead to imprisonment, sometimes even death.

Dwalin jiggled the instrument. “Come on. If you're doing it wrong, I'll give you some tips so you don't get into bad habits.”

Reluctantly, Nori stood up and took the viol in his hands. “All right, but --”

Dwalin moved to stand behind him. “Okay, so bring your left elbow forward more, like this, so the pads of your fingers can press on the strings down hard enough for a good tone. See?” He put one big hand on Nori's shoulder, and then adjusted the elbow with the fingers of his other hand. “Now play.”

Nori drew the bow across the strings, and it did sound better. Clearer. He nodded.

“Keep the bow parallel to the bridge.” Dwalin's solid bulk was radiating heat at his back. The big hands were unexpectedly gentle. Everything, all of this, was so different from what Nori knew about Dwalin; so far from what he'd expected. He struggled for breath.

He stepped away, then smiled at Dwalin. “Thanks, I'll have to practice that. But we should get down to work here.”

Dwalin nodded. They both settled on the divan.

“I want to be down in the tent village, helping with the investigation,” Dwalin said. “You could use some back-up, especially given what this Spiall's enforcers are capable of.”

Nori shook his head. “This has been the problem from the start. Everyone knows who you are. Intelligence-gathering has to be done by stealth, not brute force.”

“Not everyone knows me,” Dwalin argued. “They know the dwarf in the golden armor. The one with the crossed axes, and the tattoos. The hero, the warrior, et cetera, et cetera.”

“That's _you_ ,” Nori said, spreading his hands wide apart.

Dwalin leveled a look at him, and Nori sat back. Hadn't he just seen a whole new side of Dwalin? Someone who was not as simple as he looked.  Nori gave in. “All right, I'm listening.”

The big dwarf sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he talked. “There are always caravan guards and sell-swords passing through the tent village. They're looking for work, and people are looking to hire them. One more or less won't stand out.”

“Hello, crossed axes? Tattooed scalp?”

“I don't need the axes. I can use whatever's around,” Dwalin said. It was true; the warrior could turn anything he picked up into a weapon. Even bare-handed, he was deadly. “And I can cover the tattoos. Somehow.”

Nori bit his thumbnail, thinking. “I can help with that. Have you ever been to Harad?”

Dwalin nodded. “After King Thrain disappeared, I spent a few years down there with a tribe that roamed the Near Harad wasteland. It was - I had some thinking to do.”

Nori hadn't realized that Dwalin had been part of Thrain's ill-fated expedition to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, decades before Thorin's Company had achieved that goal. Thrain had disappeared when his group reached the eaves of Mirkwood. The others searched but he was never found; the burden of not knowing his fate must have weighed heavy on the survivors.

“You could pose as one of the Haradrim, then. We'll put you in a black turban and headscarf, like they wear. That will take care of the scalp tattoos. Then we'll braid some gold cord into your beard, and you'll fool most anyone you meet. You're almost as tall as – as some Men I've met, “ Nori said, thinking of Ceol.

He considered Dwalin, eyes narrowed. This could work. And it might be not too bad, having a trained fighter somewhere nearby. A tension he didn't know he'd been feeling loosened from his shoulder blades.

It would be good, in fact, to have Dwalin at his back.

“That would work, at a distance,” Dwalin approved. “Up close, anyone who knew the Men of Harad would realize that my eyes are blue, not brown.”

“Then just say that you're a dwarf who's spent a lot of time down in Harad. Always best to stick close to the truth. I'll get you the right clothes.” Nori jumped up, then looked at Dwalin again. “I've got something that will darken your skin a few shades – it might hide the tattoos a bit.”

Dwalin grinned, hot, gleeful anticipation filling his face. “Bring it on.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dagger on Nori's mantelpiece is a sica, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sica, but I imagined it looked like this weapon: http://art-of-swords.tumblr.com/post/63767365953/persian-jambiya-style-dagger-with-scabbard-dated


	6. Welcome to Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin disguises himself as a Southerner from Harad and joins Nori in the tent village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for feelings of grief and self-loathing at the beginning of the chapter.

Dwalin was on his knees, forehead resting against the stone sarcophagus that held Thorin’s body.

“I’ll never forget you, Thorin,” he whispered. “Never.”

But as he spoke, he knew he was a liar.

He was a liar because he’d even thought to say those words. For so long, Thorin had been constantly there in his mind and heart. Remembering Thorin had been endless, overwhelming – as automatic as breathing. Now Dwalin had to make a promise not to forget. His mind was on other things. He was weak.

King Dis had ordered him to help Nori carry out his mission. But Dwalin didn’t want to be just an errand-boy, carrying messages between Nori and the King. The people of Erebor were his people, too.

So he’d had to convince Nori that he could do more. Dwalin wasn’t any good at being charming and nice, but he did know how to be a friend. For the sake of the mission, he’d set aside his grief and made an effort to be friendly to Nori.

It turned out to be easier than he’d thought. He liked Nori’s place. Nori had proven to be good company, not the aloof, self-contained thief he’d been on the quest. They’d hardly ever talked together before. But their conversation had gone well, and now Dwalin had something to look forward to. It was almost like they were friends.

But it meant he was forgetting Thorin, who had been so important to him for so long. That was wrong. Dwalin had failed his King during the battle and terrible harm had come out of his failure. He didn’t deserve to have friends.

But he had a job to do. He stood up, and with one finger he traced along the side of the stone sarcophagus. Then he turned and left.

A little while later, a nomad from the desert of Near Harad made his dusty way into the tent village. He wore a long loose red tunic over baggy black pants tucked into heavy boots.  Over his chest he wore an armored vest of thick-woven rattan and bamboo, held tight to his waist with a heavy leather belt. A black turban covered his head, with the matching face-wrap open to display his fierce dark beard braided with gold cords.

Dwalin pitched his tent at the far edge of the tent village, in a section where other sell-swords seemed to be.

“Hey, you can’t put that tent up there,” blustered a ratty-looking dwarf who came running up to him. “You haven’t paid rent.”

Dwalin’s eyebrows disappeared up into his turban. “Rent? Nobody owns this land. Get out of here.”

The dwarf shook his head and held out a hand. “Two coppers.”

Dwalin drew the scimitar that hung from his belt and pressed it lightly against the dwarf’s chest. “No coppers.”

A handful of ragged-looking people, some ordinary dwarves and a hard-bitten veteran or two, stopped to watch.

“Told you you’d find yourself shorter by a head if you kept it up, Grar,” said one grizzled-looking mercenary. “You’ll never get any money out of the sell-swords and caravan guards. You’re just annoying us, and that’s been known to prove hazardous to a person’s health.”

“But I need it,” Grar whined, his hand still stubbornly held out in Dwalin’s direction. “If I don’t bring the money, then Beed will –” he started to shake and whimper.

Dwalin didn’t lower his sword. He felt sorry for the fellow, but handing over money just because some pathetic dwarf had asked for it would be a very bad precedent to set.

“Run away, Grar,” advised the grizzled one. “At least that way, you’ll get to live. Stick around here, someone’s gonna kill you. If it’s not Beed, it will probably be the Southerner here.” He nodded at Dwalin.

Grar evidently thought this was sensible advice. He took to his heels, disappearing in a cloud of dust toward the scraggly trees that were the only cover in the wide open plain. Now that the dragon was gone, new grass had begun to grow but close to the tent village, many pairs of feet had trampled the feeble growth back into the dirt.

Dwalin shrugged and stuck his sword back into its scabbard.

The grizzled mercenary looked him over, neutral and appraising. “Grar was a low-life. But you’d still better find Beed and pay him, or you won’t last long around here.”

“Who is this Beed?”  Dwalin asked.

“He works for Spiall, the dwarf who runs this place. You’ll know Beed when you see him, big fellow, one eye is all white. Crippled left hand. Don’t irritate him. He won’t stand for any lack of discipline. You know what I mean?”

Dwalin nodded. “Where do I find him?”

“Over at the cantina. You’ll know it when you smell it.” The mercenary pursed his lips and jutted his jaw in the direction of the river.

The cantina turned out to be nothing more than a collection of mismatched tables and seats underneath some of the larger trees near the riverbank.  Under one of the trees, a grumpy-looking dwarf sat beside a large vat of something that was probably beer. Dwalin had seen Nori hanging out there on previous visits to the tent village.

Nori was there again, keeping three daggers in the air at the same time, the bright steel of the blades flashing in the sunlight. He danced lightly in place as he threw the weapons and caught them again, a fierce grin on his upturned face.

Dwalin stopped to watch. Nori was slender and lithe, graceful as a gazelle. He was slim for a dwarf, but a tough, resilient fighter. His red-brown hair was in a different style now, not his usual three peaks but a sleek network of braids similar to the ones Dori wore, close to his head, with the long tail of his braid tucked down the back of his jerkin.

Surprising though it was, he liked Nori. Being around him lifted his spirits, gave him a sense of anticipation, wondering what would come next. With Nori, anything could happen. He was easy to talk to and quick enough to get any joke.

He wondered if Nori liked him. Probably not that much, he concluded. Nori had been jumpy and nervous when Dwalin had visited what was probably Nori’s private space. And when Dwalin had just touched Nori’s shoulder to show him how to hold the viol, the smaller dwarf had startled under his hand like he’d gotten a shock. He’d moved away quickly.

Nori might not like him, but he had agreed to work with him, and that was enough.

He waited until Nori had caught all three daggers in his hands and bowed, then he walked among the tables toward the beer.

Nori noticed him and drifted into his path, looking him up and down.

Was that heat in his eyes, or maybe just approval for the fierce costume of the desert fighters?  There was a sort of barbaric splendor about the woven armor, so alien to a dwarf’s metal-loving soul. Maybe that was what was going on here.

“Well, hello, newcomer,” Nori’s voice was unusually welcoming, with a dark invitation in it. “I’m Nyr.”

Aha, a false name. So they were playing their roles already. Dwalin took the opportunity to admire Nori in turn. Why not? The smaller dwarf looked good in a careless, confident way. A sell-sword who was new to a place might be interested in getting to know some of the locals.

“Adnan,” he replied, giving the name he’d chosen for himself. He nodded toward the grumpy-looking dwarf. “I heard I could get some beer here.”

Nori, or Nyr, smiled broadly. “That’s not all you can get.”

Well, that was a pretty obvious invitation. Dwalin glanced around, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Evidently Nori’s plan was that they would pretend to be flirting, so that there was a reason for them to share information about the operation. Their cover story, so to speak.

“First, I have to take care of some business,” Dwalin said. “Someone named Beed?”

“Over there,” Nori said, nodding toward a table on the far edge of the cantina. “Come back soon.”

He wiggled his fingers coyly at Dwalin and turned away, tossing his daggers in the air again.

After getting himself a mug of beer and fishing a few flies out of it, Dwalin walked over to the table where Beed sat.

Beed the dwarf was an ugly fellow, with hound-dog eyes and loose, flabby wet lips in a beefy, pock-marked face. His thin hair was pure white, but his beard had unpleasant yellow streaks in it. He held his left hand curled up next to his chest, and was writing with his right hand on a sheet of parchment paper that was anchored to the table with an inkwell and a mug of beer. The hand that held the quill pen was about the size of a small ham.

Beside him sat a human woman, hunched over and pulling a dingy gray shawl tight around her shoulders. A small child sat on the ground beside her chair.

“Just a couple more days,” she was muttering, her voice tight with shame. “I swear I’ll get it, you know I’m good for it.”

Beed shook his head. “No. You know the rules. Pay up or get out. No exceptions.”

She leaned in closer, despair in her face. “But I don’t _have_ the _money_. Five coppers for the four of us – where am I going to get money like that?”

Beed’s expression became calculating. “Well, what _do_ you have?”

She looked at him blankly, as if unable to think of anything. Then her face changed expressions rapidly as realization hit her, followed by terror. She gulped. “No, I – I have to be able to work after –”

A sick, cold sensation had crept over Dwalin as he listened to this exchange, but now he was filled with a white-hot rage. How dare this worthless scum force the woman into whatever degrading act she so obviously feared? The world would be a much better place without Beed, and Dwalin reached for his scimitar to cleanse Arda of this diseased piece of filth.

But before he had done more than lay one hand on the hilt of his weapon, a shiny steel dagger slammed point-first into the wooden table between the human woman and Beed. They both jumped back, startled.

“Butter-fingers! My knife slipped,” Nori said breezily as he bent forward to retrieve his weapon. Turning his head so that Beed and the woman couldn’t see, he gave Dwalin a fierce warning glance. He wrenched the dagger out of the wood, leaving a deep gouge-mark, and slipped away.

Dwalin got the message. No killing—at least not right now. Too bad. He took his hand off the sword-hilt and reached into his purse. He threw five copper coins onto the table. “For her. I’m tired of waiting.”

The woman gazed at him, open-mouthed and bewildered, before gabbling some words of thanks and scuttling off with her child.

Beed looked up, narrowing his eyes. “Charitable of you, Southerner.”

“I was getting bored.” Dwalin kept his expression flat and hard. Thorin had not given his life so that villains like this could take over his home. Nori had better let him kill this one soon.

The ugly dwarf tensed up and glared at Dwalin. “Well, what do you want?”

Dwalin threw another copper on the table. “That’s for me. Name's Adnan. Sell-sword, caravan guard."

Beed relaxed, and swept the coin up with one hand. “Ah. Well, that’s better. Welcome to Erebor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I modeled Dwalin's disguise after the attire of the Haradrim as shown in The Lord of the Rings books and movies. They look somewhat Moorish, wearing black turbans, face-cloths that cover their mouths and noses, and armor made of thick woven fibers, like rattan and bamboo.   
> Picture and descriptions here: http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Haradrim   
> Awesome cosplay here: http://the-teaspoon-of-doom.deviantart.com/art/Haradrim-Gear6-209502197


	7. A glass of mead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori tells Dwalin a little bit more about the situation in the tent village.

Nori watched out of the corner of his eye as Dwalin moved away from Beed. At least there had been no bloodshed, although it had been a close-run thing. The warrior’s disgust for the ugly, rent-collecting henchman was obvious in every stiff and disapproving line of his body.

Dwalin disapproved of a lot of things.

This judgmental attitude could become a problem, but Nori had to admit it was nice to know that when the time came, Dwalin could be counted on to kill the people who needed killing.

Nori let Dwalin get a sufficient distance away from the other patrons of the cantina, waiting until he sat down at a table under a shade tree close to the river. The afternoon shadows were getting longer, and the air was cooler now under the shade of its branches. As Nori sauntered over, he juggled one of his daggers in one hand, flipping it end over end.

He slithered up onto the table in front of Dwalin, lounging sideways on one elbow and one hip, propping the other arm on his upraised knee. His dagger dangled loosely from his fingers.

Dwalin was looking positively sulky about not being able to kill Beed. “Friend of yours?” he sneered, with a tiny nod in the direction of the ugly dwarf.

They kept their voices down, even though there was no one within earshot.

Nori let the corners of his mouth curl up, and batted his eyelashes. “Don’t be petulant, Adnan. Doesn’t suit your big strong warrior image.”

Dwalin glared at him, mouth pressed shut, and blew a long exasperated breath out through his nose. Disgruntlement wasn’t a bad look for him. The black turban and the foreign costume gave him a very exotic aura, and the gold cords braided into his beard looked positively delicious.

“All in good time.” Nori plucked Dwalin’s mug of beer from where it rested in front of him and held it to his own closed lips, making it look like he was taking a sip.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” the warrior rumbled.

“I’m not,” Nori said, setting it down and smiling at Dwalin some more. He leaned forward and ran his fingers over the thick, tight mesh of the rattan armor covering Dwalin’s broad chest.  “I know better than that. I’ve been here longer than you.”

Dwalin jerked back a little as Nori’s hand roamed up to touch the gold cords in his beard. “What are you doing?”

“I’m flirting with you, soldier. We don’t see a lot of fighting men from Harad, and that makes you more interesting than most. I’m showing an interest.  Just relax.”

It was too much fun, teasing Dwalin. Nori could see the flicker of wary interest in his eyes, along with annoyance and the tiniest hint of panic as Nori took more liberties in touching him.  They were very light touches, casual fingers brushing briefly against shoulders and arms, but they were enough to set the bigger dwarf on edge. He probably wasn’t used to being touched and handled.

“Do you have to do that?”

“Yes, I _do_ have to do that. Because then it will seem more natural when I do this,” Nori said and slid into Dwalin’s lap.

Dwalin stiffened, his body going rigid beneath Nori’s weight. Big hands closed hard on his hips, ready to shove him off.  “Mahal’s holy—”

Nori threw his arms around Dwalin’s neck and brought his lips close to the warrior’s ear. “Listen carefully. I need you to come with me to the tent I’m staying in. If things had been different, we could have gone back into the mountain and met at my rooms, but—not enough time. You need to know a few key facts, so we’ll talk there.”

He sat back and smiled into Dwalin’s face, which was red with a mounting flush of mingled outrage and embarrassment.

“You’re _sitting_ on my _lap_ ,” Dwalin hissed. “In _public_.”

Nori nodded, grinning. Just too much fun. He tucked a dangling length of the black face-scarf back behind Dwalin’s shoulder.  “Now no one will be surprised at all if you come with me to my tent.”

“One of these days, I’m going to wring your neck,” Dwalin growled.

“But not today,” Nori said lightly.

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “No, not today.”

He climbed easily off Dwalin’s lap and stretched out a hand to help the warrior to his feet.

Dwalin shook his head. “Forget it. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

“Awww.”

Darkness was creeping over the village as the evening closed in around them. Nori ushered Dwalin into his tent with a little flourish of his hand, pricklingly aware of the sidelong looks directed their way as they’d walked the short distance to his tent.  He’d done his best to give the impression that Nyr the thief was planning to bed Adnan the stranger from Harad, and so far Dwalin hadn’t done too bad a job of pretending to be a mercenary soldier willing to take what was being so blatantly offered to him.

Nori tried to see his tent as Dwalin would: Big enough to stand up in at the center, but sloping sharply down on the sides. A thick tapestry underfoot and a heap of pillows taking up about half the space. Comfortable enough.

He let the tent-flap fall down into place, and turned to find Dwalin watching him with a skeptical look.

“Take off your chest armor and make yourself comfortable. I’ve got some honey mead around here somewhere,” Nori said, raising his voice slightly. There probably wasn’t anyone eavesdropping, but it never hurt to be careful. Let casual listeners hear what they expected to hear, get bored and move along.

He knelt down to unlock the small chest where he kept the few belongings of value he’d brought with him. In the tent village, anything not under lock and key tended to disappear. He brought out two glasses and a bottle.

“I don’t need anything,” Dwalin said, still standing in the middle of the small space.

Nori grabbed him by the shoulder, reaching up to whisper in his ear. “We still might have an audience, Adnan, so don’t think you can drop the pose completely. Just keep your voice down when we talk about anything important.”

Dwalin thought that over, and then shrugged out of the rattan vest, setting it carefully to one side. When the big dwarf had seated himself, Nori handed him a filled glass, then stretched out beside him and smiled.

Even though he was resting among a pile of soft cushions and holding a glass full of intoxicating liquor, Dwalin held himself as stiffly as if he were part of a parade-ground inspection. He gazed levelly at Nori. “Well?”

Working with Dwalin was never going to be easy. Nori had known that from the start. The big dwarf was angry, stubborn, and too stiff-necked to willingly submit to Nori’s leadership. Thorin had been his king and his friend for a long time, and he wasn’t quite over his death. What was more, Dwalin was too honest and straightforward to fit naturally into the morally ambiguous world of a plotter and a spy.

Nori looked at the warrior glowering at him. He thought about what it would be like to have all that menacing power under his control, all that fierce loyalty directed at him. Oh, yes. That would be a beautiful thing. Definitely worth the effort.

Nori rolled over, bringing himself closer to Dwalin on the cushions, and spoke softly. “You know Spiall has managed to gain control of most things in the tent village. You met his dwarf Beed today. Former army supply sergeant, dishonorably discharged from the Army of the Iron Hills. He’s hard, suspicious, and sharp as a pikestaff.”

Dwalin did not relax. He took a sip of the mead, and made a rolling motion with his hand.

“One good reason not to kill Beed is that he doesn’t seem to get his jollies by tormenting the people in the tent village, but the other dwarf working for Spiall does.”

Dwalin shrugged. “Get rid of them both.”

“The other good reason for not killing Beed was that you’d have been shot dead before you got your sword out of its scabbard,” Nori went on. “If you’d looked up, you would have seen the archer sitting in the tree, with his arrow nocked and pointed at your back. More mead?”

A little of the stiffness left the warrior. He sighed and shook his head. “How did I miss that? I should have seen that.”

Nori reached over and poured himself a little more mead. He was going to have to pace himself; he didn’t want to lose his edge.  “I’ve been here longer than you. The plan is to get proof for – for certain interested parties and get out. I’ve got someone working close to Beed now, we’ll see what she turns up." 

A scratching sound at the tent flap caught Nori’s attention, then Balder shuffled into the tent. “Sir,” the wiry, unkempt dwarf said with a little bow.

“I’m entertaining a guest right now,” Nori said sharply, for the benefit of any listeners.

“I have a letter for you from your sister,” Balder said, emphasizing the last word. His voice was smooth and mellow and terribly cultured, like a butler at a royal household, completely the opposite of what anyone would expect from his ragged, snaggle-toothed appearance. “She would like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night, at her – home.”

Nori sat up hastily. Well, this was a shock. Nori’s only siblings were Dori and Ori, and judging from the way Balder had leaned on the word “sister,” the summons must have been issued by the King herself. What did King Dis want now? And why weren’t they following the procedure that had been set up to pass messages back and forth? Dwalin was supposed to act as their liaison.

However, when the King gave an order, it probably wouldn’t do to disobey.

“My sister? Well, well. Please tell her I’d be delighted to attend. And let her know I’m bringing a guest.”

Balder nodded and disappeared into the night.

“Your sister?” Dwalin said in the loud rumble that was his softest voice. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Nori gave him a wry half-smile. “My sister Dis. Looks like you and I are going to a dinner party.”

 


	8. words overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the King's party

The golden armor of the King’s Guard weighed heavily on Dwalin’s shoulders. That was a surprising thing, since it had felt fine just a few days ago.

He braced himself and strode up to the entrance of the Great Hall of Erebor, where the King’s state dinner was being held.

Privately, Dwalin had decided that state dinners were a kind of torture invented by elves specifically to cause maximum pain to dwarves. He’d been to a couple of them before, because King Dis had insisted that all the Heroes of Erebor (as the surviving members of Thorin’s Company were now called) help her establish good relations with the neighboring communities.

Dori, magnificently dressed in shades of plum and silver, graciously inclined his meticulously-braided head. “Welcome, Master Dwalin.”

Dwalin nodded curtly. Then it occurred to him that Nori would be attending this gathering too. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to chat casually with Dori for a while, in case someone was needed to act as a buffer when Dori’s black-sheep brother showed up.

He considered Dori’s round pink cheeks, the beautiful amethyst collar around his neck and his general air of satisfaction with life. “So, you enjoying being King Dis’ butler, or whatever it’s called?”

Dori’s expression became pained. “Please. My title is Master of Ceremonies, and the role encompasses far more than being a mere butler.”

“Sorry.” Dwalin searched his brain for something to say about Masters of Ceremonies, but came up blank.

Luckily, at that moment Ori arrived with Balin.

“Oh, Ori!” Dori exclaimed. “Why aren’t you wearing that necklace I sent you? And didn’t you even wash your hands? They’re covered with ink-stains.”

“Get off,” muttered Ori, freeing his smudged fingers from Dori’s perfectly manicured grip. “I did wash, I always do. And the necklace is nice, but it brushes against the paper I’m working on and smears the ink.”

Dori clucked his tongue in exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”

Thankful that he wasn't related to Dori, Dwalin exchanged nods with Balin.

“Evening, brother,” Balin said, advancing with the usual spring in his step, his eyes bright with anticipation as he inspected the gathering: Dwarves in splendid jewels, a few elves in flowing robes, and a cluster of Menfolk from Dale or possibly New Esgaroth.  “And how many members of the Company has our esteemed King gathered here tonight? I hear Bofur, Bifur and Bombur are away to the Shire on business, but Gloin and Oin are just over there.”

Balin nodded toward the two older dwarves, who stood with their heads tilted towards one another and mugs in their hands. Dwalin scowled. Balin’s tactful reference to “the company” instead of “Thorin’s company,” irritated him. He wasn’t going to break down just because someone mentioned Thorin’s name. Thorin should be mentioned, spoken about, remembered—Thorin was a part of him, embedded deep in his soul. Thorin still mattered.

“Aye. I see them.” Dwalin scanned the room, looking for Nori. Where was he? Surely he would not be late.

In the center of the room stood King Dis, dazzling in the Raven Crown and enough jewelry to ransom a kingdom. She was flanked by two bodyguards in golden armor, and near her stood two more bodyguards dressed in plain clothes. She was talking to a prosperous-looking dwarf with a lavish, well-braided beard.

The King looked up and caught Dwalin’s eye, beckoning him over with a small twist of her head.

Dwalin glanced at his brother.

Balin nodded encouragingly. “Go on, laddie. Don’t make the King wait.”

As Dwalin strode up, he could hear the prosperous dwarf’s rich and plummy voice. “…causing a disturbance of the peace. There is virtually no Guard presence down there, and people simply do whatever they want. It’s not good for business.”

King Dis smiled at Dwalin. “Well, here’s the dwarf you should be talking to.”

The prosperous dwarf had dark hair, almost black, liberally streaked with white at the temples and in his oiled beard. He wore black and silver robes, velvet and quilted silk, with clear white jewels set in silver. He was a handsome dwarf, and the soft look of his hands was belied by a powerful handshake.

He smiled, revealing very white, strong teeth. “Well-met, Master Dwalin. You are a legend already. Spiall, at your service. I – we – could certainly use your help, and that of the King’s Guards, in the tent village.”

“Oh?” Dwalin widened his stance and crossed his arms.

“Yes. Honest merchants need protection from the rabble down there. Well, not the rabble, but the rabble- _rousers_ , the troublemakers who blame hard-working dwarves for the misery of the shiftless poor. I’m telling you, Dwalin – may I call you Dwalin?”

“No,” Dwalin replied.

The merchant laughed. “I like an honest dwarf. Well, Master Dwalin, the fact is that all of us came to Erebor with nothing. Some of us worked hard and others did not. I’m a dwarf, sir – and I keep what is mine.” Spiall dropped his smiling façade for a moment, revealing an expression of ugly malice underneath.

The smiling mask slipped smoothly back into place. “I have undertaken a great deal of risk to bring basic supplies to the residents of the tent village, but I cannot continue to do so if I am being threatened on all sides.”

Behind the merchant, Dwalin saw Nori approaching. His hair was done up in his familiar three peaks, and his hands were tucked up into the long, bell-like sleeves of his gold-embroidered robe. Nori’s eyes glittered like broken crystals.

His gaze was focused on the merchant’s back.

The merchant was still talking. “Of course, the worst offenders are two criminals of the race of Men, a prostitute named Ceol and his pimp Sieg. They incite the people to open rebellion –”

“Excuse me,” Dwalin said.

He had to move fast to get between the merchant and Nori, but he managed it. Luckily, his Guard armor was gold-plated mithril, which would turn aside whatever weapon Nori had been about to pull out of his sleeve.

“Well-met, my old friend.” He grabbed Nori up in a bear hug tight enough to make the smaller dwarf’s ribs creak.

“Damn you, you bastard,” Nori gasped in an undertone. “I’ll stab you instead, see if I don’t.”

Dwalin thumped Nori hard on the back. “Ha, ha. Good to see you too. What news from the Shire?  Let’s go lift a pint.”

Glancing over his shoulder at King Dis, he saw her place a hand on the merchant Spiall’s back and steer him away, clearly offering some sort of explanation for Dwalin’s sudden departure.

He slung an arm around Nori’s neck, hauling him out of the Great Hall and into the nearest dark alcove. He pinned him against the wall with his left hand.

“No assassinations in the Great Hall,” he growled softly. “Kings hate it when people drop dead at their feet.”

“Fuck you,” Nori spat, his voice equally quiet. “ _I_ hate it when murdering scum are allowed to smile and lie and make friends with fools of Kings who are too stupid to know when they’re being used.”

Dwalin’s hand tightened involuntarily on Nori’s chest. He leaned close, almost nose to nose with the thief. “You were sprung from prison to find proof of criminal acts, not to commit more of them. The only foolish thing King Dis has done was to trust you.”

In the dark of the alcove, all Dwalin could see of Nori was the glint of his eyes as he glared up at him. “She’s the biggest fool in Arda if she’s letting that snake Jari within striking distance of her.”

“That was the merchant Spiall,” Dwalin corrected. “She asked us here to meet him.”

Nori shook his head.

As they stared at each other with a growing sense of realization, soft footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the alcove. Dwalin froze, not daring to breathe.

“The last of the divers is dead,” said a gravelly voice.

“Tell Beed to find replacements,” responded the plummy voice that Dwalin recognized as Spiall the merchant. Under his hand, he felt Nori stiffen. “Tell him to offer bigger rewards.”

“That won’t work,” the gravelly voice objected. “What good’s a reward you won’t live to collect?”

“Do it!” Spiall’s voice cracked like a whip. “Or you’ll take your turn in the water.”

The voices faded away. Dwalin and Nori stayed motionless, hardly breathing. The air of the entire palace seemed alive with danger. 

Finally, Nori nodded to show that he thought it was safe. Dwalin relaxed, dropping his arm from Nori’s chest and stepping back.

“What does that mean, divers?”

Nori shook his head. “You should have let me kill him.”

“Not without proof.”

“You tried to kill Beed,” Nori argued in a fierce whisper.

“Beed deserved it,” Dwalin gritted back. “I saw what he did. We only have unconfirmed rumors about Spiall." 

“Jari.” Nori said flatly. He made the word into a curse.

“Proof,” Dwalin countered.

“I’ll get you proof,” Nori responded in that same flat and deadly tone.

 


	9. Divers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debriefing with King Dis, and then Dwalin and Nori make some plans.

The state dinner was over.

King Dis was still wearing the Raven Crown and the Royal Parure when Nori followed Dwalin into her retreat near the peak of the Mountain.

She looked displeased.

Nori automatically glanced at Dwalin, trying to get a reading on how to handle the King, but Dwalin’s stony expression offered no clues. Fine. Nori had finessed stickier situations than this one without anyone’s help.

Dwalin didn’t sit. He stood stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back, staring over the King’s head, awaiting her judgment. Nori took a position beside him, relaxed but watchful.

“You were supposed to use the dinner as an opportunity to investigate Spiall. You weren’t supposed to go running off before you’d exchanged more than two words with the dwarrow,” the King said. “Explain yourselves.”

Nori stepped forward. He kept his voice level. “I was taking care of him when Dwalin interfered.”

“You were going to kill him,” Dwalin growled. “Without even bothering to find out if he was guilty.”

“I already know he’s guilty,” Nori snapped back. He shut his mouth tight. He wasn’t going to talk about this. He shouldn’t even have told Dwalin that Spiall’s name was really Jari.

The King glared, her eyes like chips of blue ice in that elegant face, so like her brother’s. “Nori, you can’t just murder people you’ve taken a dislike to.”

“That’s right. Plus, there’s a whole criminal network down there,” Dwalin said. “If this Spiall dies, someone else will take his place.”

Nori scowled at the floor. This was why he always worked alone. This was why he didn’t work for or with other people, because they always expected him to tell them everything and to do things their way. They cramped his style, put him off his game, and made each job so much more dangerous than it ought to be.

Now, the king and Dwalin wanted to know all about Jari and what he’d done. But they didn’t need to know. Justice wasn’t justice when righteous, upstanding people who weren’t there and couldn’t understand began theorizing about motives and intentions until the truth got lost. Nori knew the truth, so he was entitled to take care of it.

And when Nori took care of it, justice was swift and stealthy and final.

He looked up, and saw Dwalin looking at him. There was no deciphering the expression on the large dwarf’s face.

“Nori was right about one thing. Spiall has to go,” he rumbled. Nori was a little surprised at the support. “We didn’t need to sit through the whole dinner to find that out.”

In a sudden lapse of majesty, King Dis rolled her eyes and gave a little snort. “You just don’t like formal affairs. You never have.”

Nori looked from Dis to Dwalin. He kept forgetting that they had known one another all their lives, had grown up together. Dis was a fine-looking dwarrowdam, stern and strong. Plus, she was King now, with all the wealth and power of her exalted rank.  It wouldn’t be surprising if Dwalin began courting her.

What would be more natural than a union between the King and the warrior, lifelong friends, both from the House of Durin?  It made sense.

Not that it mattered to Nori. He worked alone, because he preferred it that way.

Dwalin said, “We overheard a very interesting conversation after we left the Great Hall, though. Spiall was giving orders to find more divers.”

“Divers,” Dis murmured with a perplexed frown. She stroked one thumb down the dark line of her beard along her jaw.

“That’s what he said,” Nori confirmed. “But if he meant, divers as in the water, then he’s probably looking for humans, not dwarves.”

Dwalin nodded. “He said if they didn’t find anybody, the messenger would take his turn in the water.”

“In the water,” Dis said. “They are diving into the waters of the lake?”

“Apparently,” Dwalin said uncomfortably. Nori could tell he was thinking about the harrowing barrel-ride they’d endured to escape the dungeons of the elf-king. That wasn’t surprising. The thought of deliberately plunging into water over one’s head was repellent to any dwarf.

Dwarves generally avoided deep water. Boats and ships were unpleasant methods of transportation; Mahal’s creations were about as buoyant as the stone they came from. The Menfolk of Lake-town had ferried the Company across the LongLake before their entry into the Mountain, but it hadn’t been a fun trip.

The Lake-towners had prospered in their wooden homes on stilts until the dragon Smaug had vented his fury on them, setting their town aflame before being shot through the heart by Bard the Bowman. Smaug had crashed to a watery death, throwing up a huge column of dense, foul steam and destroying the town of Esgaroth in the process.  Now his jewel-encrusted corpse lay under the lake’s surface, polluting the waters and causing the residents to rebuild their town in a new spot upstream from the dragon’s taint.

The pieces fell together in Nori’s mind. “The dragon.”

Dwalin and the King turned to look at him.

“That’s what they’re doing. It must be,” he added. “They’re trying to salvage the treasure from Smaug’s body – the gold and jewels that covered the dragon’s underbelly like armor as he lay on his hoard.”

It would be just like Jari to try something like that. Oh, what a scheme suited to such a ruthless and twisty mind. And here was an entire village of refugees, wanderers, and poor people to exploit. He wouldn’t care how many lives it would cost.

“But the waters around Smaug’s body are cursed,” King Dis objected. “Nobody, not even the greediest Menfolk will go near the place. And dwarves aren’t swimmers – they wouldn’t dare go into the water, dragon or no dragon.”

Nori shook his head absently, still concentrating on solving the puzzle. “There are Menfolk among the tent villagers. He’d start with them. Jari – Spiall – knows how to find weaknesses; he can pressure anybody to do anything. I bet he’d find a way to make dwarves swim.”

King Dis stared at Nori, her eyes filled with horror and disgust. “That would be torture for a dwarf. I can’t believe Spiall would do something that foul. He is a well-respected, hard-working merchant.”

Dwalin frowned. “In the cantina, Beed told that woman she could work for him if she couldn’t pay her rent. He didn’t say what he wanted her to do, but she looked like he’d asked her to chop off her arm.”

“You witnessed this? And you just _let it go_?” The King demanded, outraged.

Nori lifted an eyebrow.  Dis was a competent enough King, but she had a bad habit of refusing to act without proof one moment, and expecting instant action without proof the next. She should be more consistent.

“Of course not,” Dwalin growled without elaboration. He looked almost embarrassed.  What was wrong with him now, Nori wondered. Dwalin had taken care of the matter. Why not just say so?

“He paid her rent,” Nori put in impatiently.

Dwalin folded his arms across his chest and scowled.  The big dwarf’s face looked a little red, for no apparent reason.

The King smiled. “Good. Well, what is your next step here?”

Nori said, “I’ll talk to some people I know down in the tent village, and see what we can do to put a stop to the operation.”  

Dwalin’s head snapped around to glare at Nori. “ _We’ll_ talk to them,” he corrected.

“The two of you work it out,” the King said. “Now go.”

 

 

Nori led Dwalin back to his private rooms in Erebor, careful to double back a few times just to make it difficult to find. It probably was a futile effort, but he couldn’t bring himself not to try.

Dwalin ducked past him into the small space, looking around to notice if anything had changed. Nothing had—Nori would have noticed any alterations right away, including the red-brown hair caught between the door and the frame about knee-height from the ground. It was an old thieves’ trick. The absence of the hair from its place served as a silent warning that someone had opened the door.

Dwalin turned and fixed a glare on Nori. “I thought we were doing this together.”

The big warrior filled up the room, making it feel uncomfortably crowded. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing him back here again. They needed more space to talk in.

“How quickly some people forget,” Nori responded lightly. “What about, ‘the King’s only mistake was trusting you’?”

Dwalin shrugged, relaxing as he acknowledged the point. “Don’t imagine you can criticize the King to my face.”

“Are you going to court her?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Court her?” Dwalin’s tone was incredulous. “Dis? Mahal, no. Why would I?”

The warrior’s face was scrunched into an expression of total disbelief, as if Nori had proposed that Dwalin was going to try flying by jumping off the battlements and flapping his arms.

“Never mind,” Nori said quickly. “Stupid idea.” He shook his head, waving one hand to cancel the question.

But Dwalin was apparently still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. “She’s the King. She’s _my_ King, yeah, I know. But…no.”

“Never mind,” Nori repeated. He could still feel his ears burning. It was a ridiculous question. Maybe he needed more sleep. Or it was the shock of seeing Jari again, after believing the scum had died so long ago.

Dwalin stared at him, frowning. “It’s never been like that between Dis and me. Vili was her One.”

Nori scrubbed one hand over his face. Mahal, why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? Dwalin had been closest to Thorin, but the warrior was loyal to the line of Durin as a whole. Nori _knew_ that about him. “Fine. So, about the tent village. I’ll go to my source, see what I can find out about Ja—Spiall, and maybe you can talk to Vilna and see if she’s learned anything from Beed.”

“Vilna is spying on Beed?”

“She’s keeping the books for him. Vilna’s very efficient.” Nori smiled, glad the conversation had taken a new direction. Now maybe his face wouldn’t feel so damned hot.

That brought the bigger dwarf’s earlier blush to mind. “Why didn’t you want to tell the King about paying that woman’s rent for her?”

“Oh, that.” Dwalin picked up the Easterling dagger from the mantelpiece and inspected it. “You threw the dagger into the table to distract me.”

Nori shrugged. “So?”

“Just didn’t want to mention to the King that I got a little carried away there.” Dwalin stared hard at the dagger, then put it down and looked at Nori. The ruddy color was visible again on his cheeks. “Thanks for explaining about the archer.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “And here I was thinking you didn’t want to tell the King I’d been sitting on your lap.”

Dwalin snorted. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her that either.” The warrior’s color was still high, but he seemed a bit more relaxed. “Who’s your source in the tent village?”

Nori waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Adnan can pay a visit to Nyr, and I’ll share what I learn with you.”

The warrior gave him a narrow-eyed glare, but Nori ignored it as he herded him to the door.

“Come on now, your neighbors in the tent village will wonder where Adnan has gotten off to for so long."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In The Hobbit, it says that after Bard shot and killed the dragon, Smaug fell with a mighty crash onto the burning town of Esgaroth, destroying it. The new town was built a bit to the North of the original location, and nobody dared to recover the jewels from Smaug's corpse.   
> But I think that some people probably tried it, early on.


	10. Just a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the tent village, Dwalin learns some more information about the bad guys' exploitation of the villagers.   
> Also, a kiss.

The big dwarf dressed as a warrior of the Haradrim took his time walking back to the tent village. As he walked, he thought about marrying a King.

Thorin’s sister had been a part of Dwalin’s life for so long she was practically his sister, too. At first, Dis had been a pest, whining to be part of her brothers’ games. Then she’d grown into a nuisance, a quick study at lessons with a talent for rubbing other people’s noses in their mistakes. Later she became an overly dramatic young dwarrowdam with too many young fools eager to court her. Dwalin had been happy for her when she’d married Vili and had her sons. After Vili’s death, sorrow and a growing wisdom had lent her grace and depth.

Dwalin liked Dis. She was a good King, and it was right that Dwalin had given his loyalty to her. He even supposed he loved her, in a way—but not in the way that led to marriage. Erebor was filled with the subtle but deadly pressure of power and politics. And Dis’s kingship itself was a sharp reminder of Thorin’s death, which brought the cold gray fog rolling in around him again.

He shook his head, and walked on.

There was a crowd this evening at the cantina. Warm torchlight outlined the overhanging tree branches, brushed streaks of gold along the curve of a cheek or the edge of a beard, and bathed the mismatched collection of tables and benches in an orange glow. A babble of noise and laughter filled the air, along with the sound of a pair of fiddles tuning up.

He strolled in and leaned against a tree. Folding his arms, he watched dwarves and Men-folk talking and drinking. At the farthest edges of the circle of light, he could see smaller figures, children and dwarflings, darting in and out of the shadows like sprites.

“Hey!” A half-grown youngster of the Men-folk approached him -- a gangling male, just barely showing the downy beginnings of a beard. “Beg pardon, but are you the one called Adnan?”

Dwalin nodded. “Aye. Who’s asking?”

The youngster bobbed forward into a little bow. “Seth. I’m called Seth.” He darted a look from side to side, then stepped closer. “You paid our rent. Five coppers. Thanks. I won’t be forgettin’ our obligation to you.”

“There is no debt,” Dwalin said. Curse it, he hadn’t thought about that when he’d paid the money on behalf of the woman in the threadbare shawl. Such a small sum was nothing to him and he didn’t want to put a new burden onto already overstrained shoulders. “You can repay me by not mentioning it again.”

The youngster, Seth, frowned. “We are honorable folk, and we pay what we owe.”

“Fine,” Dwalin growled. “Pay it or not, but don’t keep banging on about it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh,” Seth said, looking relieved. “Yes, I understand. I'll pay when I can.”

Then Dwalin had an inspiration. “Instead, perhaps you could tell me something.”

Seth nodded.

Dwalin lowered his voice. “What is the work that Beed wants from those who can’t pay rent?”

The young Man bit his lip, frowning. He didn’t speak for so long that Dwalin thought maybe he wouldn’t answer at all. But then he glanced around and leaned in close, almost whispering. “They take them away at night, and then in the morning, they’re not the same.”

“How not?”

Seth shrugged, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. His face was bleak. “They’re angrier. They hit—people. The next night they _want_ to go, you can’t stop them…you can’t talk to them anymore. They don’t care about you anymore. They don’t even see you. Then after a few days, they don’t come back.”

Dwalin bowed his head. Dragon sickness. His heart weighed like lead in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“My father –” Seth said, and then stopped. He looked like he was holding back tears.

“Aye, lad. Keep quiet, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Movement in the crowd caught Dwalin’s attention, and he looked up to see Beed, flanked by a couple of hulking thugs, walking in his direction. The ugly dwarf’s eyes were narrowed with suspicion as he approached them.

Dwalin lifted his voice and said in a casual tone, “Sure, General Ubayy was a fierce fighter, but he was also the most grasping, money-hungry miser in all Harad. It was said that he could wring gold from the pebbles of a river.”

He grinned at Seth, watching out of the corner of his eye as Beed came closer. “Ubayy’s arm got hacked off in a skirmish in Near Harad. When he woke up after the battle, he demanded that one of his lieutenants go out to find his missing limb. ‘But General, how shall I find the arm that belongs to you, among the hundreds of bodies and parts of bodies on the battlefield?’ said the soldier.

“’Simple, you fool,’ said the General, and handed him a gold coin. ‘Take this coin, and hold it out in front of you as you walk along.  The arm that jumps up to grab the coin from your hand will be mine.’”

Dwalin threw back his head and roared with laughter at his own story. Seth’s laughter sounded forced, but then a third laugh joined in.

Nori had suddenly materialized at Dwalin’s side, his hair braided in the flat style he wore in the tent village, his hand flipping a bright-bladed dagger end over end.

Beed nodded at Dwalin, and passed by without stopping. Inwardly, Dwalin breathed a sigh of relief. They needed more information, and some kind of proof, before they could move against the ugly dwarf.

Dwalin gave Nori a wry look. “You, again.” Sometimes, the only thing more aggravating than Nori not being there, was Nori actually being there.

“Oh, you missed me.” The corners of Nori’s mouth curled up in that mocking not-smile of his. “Who’s this?”

“Seth, Nyr. Nyr, Seth.” Dwalin said, waving a hand by way of introduction.

 “I must go. Again, my thanks, Adnan.” Seth made another jerky little bow, and then walked quickly away.

“Tsk, tsk,” Nori said, pressing himself up against Dwalin in a way that sent heat surging into his cheeks. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute.”

_Mahal_ , Nori was relentless, stroking his chest with a practiced hand and smiling up at him in that provocative way. It went against everything in Dwalin’s nature to relax and pretend he was being seduced by all the touches and smiles. They were playing a game—the seduction was a cover for their more serious work.  Problem was, he was beginning to enjoy the game too much.

Just. A. Game.  Seth had given him some valuable information, which Dwalin wanted to share with Nori. He breathed slowly and evenly, then lifted one hand to cup Nori’s elbow.

“Can we go back to your place?” he said. His voice sounded a little rough in his own ears. Remember, _just a game._

Nori froze, blinked twice, and then widened his cat-like smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Just get me out of here,” Dwalin gritted.

Nori laughed under his breath as he led him away.

Once safely in Nori’s tent, Dwalin exhaled with a whoosh. “Good. I’ve got—”

Nori held up one finger warningly. Dwalin tensed again, watching as the smaller dwarf tilted his head slightly to one side as if listening.

Then, in a soft voice, Nori said, “Work with me here.”

Oh. No. Coming from Nori, that sentence always spelled trouble. And there was no way to predict what outrageous scheme would pop out of the thief’s disastrously fertile brain. Dwalin would have to—

_Mahal’s bloody hammer_ , was all Dwalin had time to think before Nori’s arms went around him. One clever hand snaked into the hair behind his ear to angle his head down. The other slid over his ribs and splayed against his back, pulling him against Nori’s body.

He wanted Dwalin to kiss him.

Dwalin was breathing hard. And for no reason; there really was no reason for him to pant like this. He looked down at Nori, startled by the sudden rush of heat that engulfed his body; by the pulse beating so deafeningly in his ears.

A kiss. When did he start wanting this kiss so much? He didn’t know, he couldn’t think anymore. He just _wanted_.

Nori was looking up at him, eyes glowing hot with excitement, lips slightly parted. Loose strands of red-brown hair trembled at his temples, stirred by Dwalin's heavy breaths.

Dwalin’s fingers reached up of their own accord, twisting in the wealth of soft soft hair, loosening the braids. He realized vaguely that he was trembling. Then his mouth dropped down to cover Nori’s waiting lips, sighing as those lips parted for him, so willing, so eager.

Then he was dragged down into his senses. Wet tongues, warm mouths, sharp teeth and the bristly scratch of their beards, the sodden sucking sounds of their kisses that were swallowed up by the deep groan that shook his whole chest.

His arm tightened around Nori’s slender but sturdy body, his fingernails scraped against Nori’s scalp, pulling him closer, pressing every inch of their bodies together.

From somewhere far, far away, Dwalin heard another voice.

“I don’t think you need to worry about those two, Beed. They look much too busy to be conspiring against you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago, I read a Wall Street Journal article about a colorful figure of Mexican history, and it included an anecdote similar to the one Dwalin tells here. Problem is, I can't remember who it was, and a Google search didn't yield any answers. It might have been General Álvaro Obregón; he apparently lost an arm in battle.


	11. Standoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Dwalin can't get much alone time in the tent village. Seth needs their help.
> 
> WARNING for violence.

Nori had him. He _had_ him!

All that beautiful strength and passion and heat, those muscular arms crushing him tight to the broad chest of the dwarf who would never let him go…

Until he did.

Because Nori was a thief and a con artist. He’d tricked his way into Dwalin’s arms, and it would be only a matter of time before he was found out.

Thieves took, but they couldn’t keep what they stole. Nothing that Nori had ever stolen had ever become his, not really.  If anyone had known he’d had any of the gold, the jewels, or the precious valuables he’d pocketed over the decades, he would have landed straight in prison.

Dwarves were created with a soul-deep need to possess beauty. For a dwarf, being a thief, being forced to survive on those fleeting moments when something beautiful passed through one’s hands, was a special kind of torture. But then again, a thief knew what it felt like to hold an object so lovely it made the heart sing.  It was a feeling that honest dwarves could live their whole life long, and never know.

The question was, was it enough? Was it enough for Nori to have Dwalin for just a little while?

It would have to be.

The canvas tent-flap rustled and a coarse voice laughed, and Nori’s whole body tensed. Not. Now.  _Mahal’s bloody bollocks_ , why couldn’t these idiots leave them alone?

Even though he had been counting on Beed’s goons to provide him with an excuse to spend this perfect, bone-melting moment in Dwalin’s arms, Nori was just not ready for it to end.

Dwalin tensed too. Cold air rushed between them as the warrior stepped back.  Nori’s hands tightened reflexively around his neck.  Dwalin looked down at him, eyebrows raised.

“Never mind them.” Nori smiled, hoping he looked cocky and bright instead of desperate enough to hang on Dwalin’s neck like a drowning dwarf. “Ignore them, and they’ll go away.”

Booted footsteps and crude laughter faded away into the random sounds of the tent village.

Dwalin’s hands were warm on his ribs. The bigger dwarf was staring down at him, a crease between his brows and a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. He was still breathing hard. That was good, wasn’t it? Nori was about to pull him down into another kiss, when Dwalin said softly, “I can’t do this.”

“What? What can’t you do?” Oh, Mahal, why not? It would be fun if he would just let—

“I can’t think and kiss you at the same time,” Dwalin’s whisper was rough. “I can’t listen for people sneaking up on me, I can’t concentrate when you’re doing this—”

Dwalin’s big fingers slid down to dig into Nori’s hips, grinding them against his own muscular thighs. Heat shot directly to Nori’s groin. Surprise made him a little light-headed.

“I wasn’t doing that,” he said breathlessly.

One big hand buried itself in Nori’s hair, cupping the back of his head, sending waves of shivery pleasure up Nori’s spine.  Dwalin’s face loomed over his, mouth ready to cover his again. “Why not? Isn’t that the idea?”

“Yes,” he heard himself saying, lifting his face up to Dwalin’s. Damn. This was a mistake, he knew better than to relax like this, especially when it would never last, when it mattered too much. It was dangerous.

Then Dwalin’s lips met his and he gave himself up to the heat and the flames and the passion. This is what he wanted, what he’d been waiting for. He wanted everything, everything, all of Dwalin, all that fierce power and energy, the heat of his body, the desire in his eyes.

“Adnan!” A young voice sounded outside, high-pitched with anxiety. “Adnan?” It was the young human, Seth.

Dwalin stepped away from Nori to look out of the tent. “What?”

The human lad’s eyes were wide and panicked, his fingers twisting together. He looked uncertainly at Dwalin, his mouth hanging open as if he were unable to speak.

“Well?” Dwalin demanded, frowning.

Nori studied the boy’s pale face. “Something’s wrong. Show us.”

Seth turned and bolted off among the tents, and the two dwarves followed. He led them to a cluster of dirty, sagging tents standing forlornly on the outskirts of the tent village, far from the Gates of Erebor.

In the moonlight, three heavily-armed dwarves stood in front of a small tent. A human woman blocked the tent-flap, arms flung protectively wide. Three small faces peered out of the shelter of the tent behind her. Her children.

As Nori and Dwalin came closer, one of the dwarves, a black-haired thug, grabbed the woman and dragged her forward.

“Time to earn your keep, woman,” said the dwarf in the middle, a gray-haired, broken-nosed old soldier from the looks of him. The human woman was a full head taller than any of them, but her bony frame had no strength to fight against the rock-hard dwarves.

“No,” she panted. “No, I paid, I paid, please listen to me. You took my husband, you can’t—”

“Shut up.” The old dwarf lashed at her with a silver-handled quirt. She screamed, turning her head away from the whip which had ripped through her ragged blouse to leave raw marks across her shoulder.

As the quirt fell, Seth gave a strangled shout and surged forward.

Dwalin reached out and grabbed Seth by the upper arm, pulling the youngster behind him. Nori took Seth’s other arm. They need a plan, a strategy to get everyone out of this situation safely—they couldn’t have this hot-headed young human male charging in and getting hurt.

The old dwarf with the quirt, clearly the leader of the three, sneered, “Now, woman, is that any way to be when you’re offered the opportunity of a lifetime? You could be rich.”

“Think carefully before you answer.” He lifted the quirt again.

Dwalin stepped between them, every line of his hard, powerful body shimmering with implacable menace. “She said no.”

 _Mahal’s bloody hammer._ Nori froze, keeping hold of Seth. _His holy fucking Anvil._ Mouth pressed tightly closed, he cursed to himself. _Fists of almighty stone._  

So much for strategy.

The gray-haired soldier raised his eyebrows. His two thuggish underlings watched with unhealthy bright excitement, like hungry jackals ready to attack at their leader’s command.

“A defender? Lucky lady. And a dwarf, too – you’ve traded up, woman.” The gray-haired dwarf’s eyes flicked contemptuously over Dwalin, standing in front of him in the loose black robes and red tunic of the Haradrim, black turban on his head, knife naked in his hand. “This is none of your business, Southerner.”

“I paid the rent for this family,” Dwalin said. “Don’t want my money to go to waste.”

Gray-hair sneered. “They don’t need you. I’m helping them make their own money. Come on, woman.”

The woman wrenched her arm free of the slackened grip of the third dwarf, and backed away.

“Leave my mother alone!” Seth shouted. Nori held him back, pushed him toward the tent where the youngest of his siblings was beginning to wail.

“You heard the young Man,” Dwalin said to the thugs. “Leave.”

Nori began to wonder who the hot-head was around here. He pulled out his own throwing knives and began flipping them over in his hands.

“Three against one, Southerner,” the gray-hair said warningly.

“Nyr has his knives,” Dwalin remarked. He tilted his head toward Nori. 

The three thugs looked uneasily in his direction, so Nori gave them a wolfish smile. It would be fun to kill them. Serve them right for spoiling a tender moment.

“Bah, what are we waiting for? She’s coming with us,” said the third thug, reaching for the woman again.

Casually, without even looking at the thug, Dwalin thrust out one ham-sized fist and punched the thug in the face. He dropped to the ground, writhing in the dust.

“Time for you three to leave,” Dwalin said, advancing on the gray-haired old soldier who was leading the trio.

As the warrior moved closer to him the leader’s eyes widened in recognition. “So it’s you, is it?” he muttered.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten me, Thekk,” Dwalin said with a mirthless smile. “Start running now if you want to save your miserable hide.”

“You can’t do this to me,” hissed the gray bearded soldier. “I fought in every battle in the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. I was a hero before you were even born!”

“The current king might not see it that way. Especially since you once tried to kill her brother.”

The dwarf named Thekk glared at Dwalin, a glint of madness in his eyes. His face contorted into a hideous snarl as he focused all his hatred on the big warrior.

“And now Thorin Oakenshield’s dead,” spat Thekk. “From what I hear, your incompetence killed him. Couldn’t protect your precious king. You never could do anything right, could you? You couldn’t even read.”

Nori watched Dwalin jerk back as if from a blow. This Thekk knew Dwalin well – that was clear enough from the naked pain on the big dwarf’s face.

Dwalin growled, burying his pain in fury as he got ready to attack Thekk. But at Thekk’s quick command, the other thug whipped out a knife and held it to the woman’s throat. Her children shrieked in terror.

For a moment, no one dared to breathe. The point of the thug’s knife dug into the woman’s throat. In the moonlit night, the single bead of blood the knifepoint drew gleamed like ink against the pallor of her skin. The veins in Dwalin’s knuckles stood out like ropes as he gripped his own knife, his eyes shifting back and forth as he calculated the distance between himself and his two adversaries. Thekk’s breath rasped out hoarsely as he waited for Dwalin’s move.

Nori saw the pleading look in Seth’s eyes, and nodded. He lifted one blade to throwing position, angling it just enough to let the moonlight catch on its shining silver edge. They'd all seen him juggle. They knew he could throw it fast as an eye-blink, burying the knife hilt-deep in the evil old soldier's heart.

“Step away from the woman,” Nori said calmly. “Or Thekk dies.”

Thekk’s eyes flared wide as he suddenly remembered Nori’s presence. He nodded to the thug, who released the woman.

Tch, some hero Thekk was. The old fellow must be slipping if he’d forget about a dwarf with a pair of knives, standing unguarded within striking distance.

One thug scurried to Thekk’s side, and the other one staggered to his feet, holding one hand over his broken and bleeding nose.

Dwalin didn’t relax, his eyes on Thekk and the two thugs as they backed away.

“We’ll come back when she’s had some time to think it over,” Thekk sneered. He turned slowly, casually, and his dwarves turned with him. Then he half-spun back, one hand on the knife in the sheath at his belt.

“Try it, Thekk,” Dwalin challenged. “Just try it.”

Thekk turned with a growl, shoving the heels of his palms into the backs of his underlings to hurry them away. As they left, he kicked out at one of the stray dogs that skulked around the tent village, sending it scampering away with a yelp.

The woman was sitting down on the ground, weeping and clutching her children to her. Seth had his arms around as many members of his family as he could.

Nori gave Dwalin a long look.

The big warrior returned the glance for a moment, then sheathed his knife and sighed. “Thanks. But he’ll be back.”

Nori nodded. “Then we’ve got time to have a little talk about some things.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've adopted Madame Faust's headcanon that Dwalin had dyslexia when he was young.  
> http://madamefaust.tumblr.com/post/58952223547/oh-man-theres-so-many-i-want-to-pick-what-about-the


	12. An allergic reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin has to get to Erebor to tell the King that former General Thekk is back, and just as vicious as ever.  
> Unfortunately, people keep getting in his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for past mistreatment by being thrown into a deep pit.

The small human family huddled together in front of their fraying tent. The children were crying and clinging to their mother’s skirts while Nori tended to the woman’s cuts and bruises.  Behind them stood her half-grown son Seth, looking grim.

He was right to look grim.

General Thekk was back, cruel as ever and still able to extract maximum pain with stiletto-like precision. This was a crisis.

King Dis had to be told right away. She could send the Guard down to the tent village to protect the people.  Dis knew who Thekk was, because it had been her brother Thorin who had caused the downfall of the once-legendary dwarf general of Erebor.

As he tended to the woman, Nori looked over at Dwalin and gestured with a jerk of his head in the direction of his tent. He wanted to talk this over, but there wasn’t time to explain the whole long and nasty story. Once Thekk had chosen a victim, he didn’t give up until he had them in his power. He would be back, probably tonight.

Dwalin shook his head. “Not now. I’ve got to get word to a certain person, fast. See what you can do to help the people down here.”

.

The tent village was quieter now, since the night had grown too dark for most humans to see in and most dwarves had already drunk their fill. As he made his way toward the mountain, Dwalin wondered how he was going to convince the King to raid the tent village. She’d have to send the Guard in in force, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

He thought about the Guards of Erebor ripping through the flimsy tents, destroying and trampling the meager possessions of the innocent while they ferreted out the guilty. But he couldn’t see any other course of action.

For as long as he could remember, Dwalin had seen life in terms of what Thorin Oakenshield required of him. He was loyal to Thorin the way a dwarf in a pitch-black cavern was loyal to a torchlight, knowing down to his very core that he could never take his eyes off that light or he would be unutterably lost. Dwalin’s every action, all the bitter pain he’d inflicted and endured, had been justified because it had brought Thorin closer to the Raven Throne.

Loyalty to Thorin had extinguished all doubt and all responsibility. But now, responsibility had been thrust back on Dwalin’s shoulders. If he made the wrong choice, it would be his own fault.

And Dwalin wasn’t sure he knew how to make the right choice. But he had to act.

A soft, purring voice floated out of the night toward him. “Well, hello there, Southerner. You’ve had a busy night. Why don’t you come in and rest a while?”

The speaker was a dark-skinned man with long dreadlocks falling down his back, wearing the golden jewelry and the short white kilt of the professional courtesans of the South. His muscular form, short for a human, was silhouetted in the golden light flowing out of the large tent behind him.

“Sorry, can’t stop now.” Dwalin took another step toward the mountain and almost walked into the point of a saber held by a second man, a tall, hard-bitten Dunlending.

“ _Make_ time, sweeting.” The courtesan’s pleasant tone didn’t completely mask the threat. “We think you’ll find it worth your while.”

Dwalin glared at the Dunlending with the sword, but let himself be directed into the large and comfortable tent. Plush carpets covered the ground and oil lamps shed intimate golden light on the pillows and hassocks that were strewn invitingly around.

Two musicians in white robes, one with a flute and another with a viol, slid out the door of the tent and began to play a restful, languid tune. The music was, Dwalin knew, designed to preserve the privacy of the courtesan’s clients.

He really didn’t have time for this. “Business a bit slow these days?”

The courtesan smiled, but it was the tall Dunlending with the saber who answered. “Heard you saved Mansa from being taken by Thekk. Unusual for a dwarf to take the side of a human woman.”

Dwalin shrugged.

The courtesan laid a gentle hand on the taller man’s arm. “Now, where are our manners, Sieg? We are very grateful that you did help that poor woman, Adnan. I’m Ceol, and this is Sieg. Please do sit down.”

Dwalin crossed his arms, but stayed standing. “You’re welcome. I’m in a hurry. Is that all?”

 “Not quite,” Ceol said, seating himself on a large hassock and leaning back on one arm. “We want to know—why _would_ you care about a tent villager?”

They were both watching him alertly, even suspiciously. Mahal, all Dwalin wanted to do was to get to the King before Thekk decided to hurt somebody else. Now was not the time for gratitude, or leisurely chats, or being presented with Tent Villager of the Year awards.

“Call it a medical condition,” he said gruffly.

Ceol’s dark eyes opened wide in an expression of polite interest. “Really? What sort of condition would that be?”

“I’m allergic to bullies. Especially ones named Thekk.”

Sieg, the Dunlending, snorted an appreciative laugh. Dwalin felt himself relax a tiny bit, then straightened up and glanced at the tent flap. He had to go.

“You know, there are other people here who suffer from that very same malady,” Ceol said.

Dwalin nodded. “Glad to hear that. But now that Thekk can’t have – what was her name, Mansa? He’s going to be looking for some other humans to torture. So—”

Nori ducked into the room. “Ceol, I can’t find—” Then he caught sight of Dwalin and his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t worry, I found him. Come here, Nyr, you look tense.” Ceol patted his muscular thigh with one hand.  “How’s our mutual friend?”

“Well on his way to slumberland. His lady friend knows just how to manage him.” Nori glared at Dwalin, then slid onto Ceol’s lap. The courtesan smiled, twining his arms around the thief in a cozy hug.

A shock like a bolt of lightning pierced Dwalin’s gut. What did that damned thief think he was doing, crawling all over a courtesan like that? How did they even know each other? Nori lounged so comfortably on Ceol’s naked thighs, one hand petting that bare chest like they were used to each other’s bodies, like they had often kissed and fucked—no. No. It didn’t matter what Nori did. Or with whom.

With an effort, he kept his expression neutral. He could feel the angry heat rising up his neck, spreading across his face and prickling his scalp.  They had their hands all over each other, right in front of him.

He glanced at Sieg, who didn’t look bothered by the embrace at all. The courtesan looked perfectly comfortable with Nori sitting on his lap—no surprise there.

Nori was still staring at Dwalin with that challenging look on his face, his eyes like hard little chips of green stone.

It didn’t matter to Dwalin what Nori did. The thief was free to do anything with anyone at any time. Dwalin’s only concern here was getting the job done—killing Spiall and Thekk and Beed and anyone else who needed killing.

One kiss—a _fake_ kiss at that—didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

Dwalin took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me you were acquainted.”

From within the circle of Ceol’s arms, Nori answered acidly, “You didn’t stick around long enough for me to tell you anything.”

“There wasn’t time! Somebody has to tell the—the right person that General Thekk has turned up.” Dwalin could hear his voice rising, and grasped at his fraying self-control.  "I knew Thekk. For years, he trained new recuits to the Army of Erebor. Anyone who didn’t follow orders didn’t survive the training.  I nearly didn’t. Thorin told Thrain what was happening to the recruits and Thekk was quietly retired from the Army. I never heard what he did after that.”

“Sounds like our Thekk,” Ceol murmured. “Too bad your King didn’t retire him permanently. So to speak.”

“Thekk always managed to surround himself with a few like-minded individuals,” Dwalin explained. “Plus he had a reputation as an excellent warrior. Made it hard to get to him.”

Jumping to his feet, Nori snarled, “You should have told me this.”

“Thekk is mine,” Dwalin growled.  “I’m going to get the Royal Guard down here and have them throw Thekk into the deepest dungeon Erebor’s got." 

“No.” Nori had drawn his dagger and was caressing it as he paced back and forth. “This is my mission, not yours.”

“This is different.” This wasn’t about the mission. General Thekk was Dwalin’s problem, a figure from his own past, and he would take care of him once and for all. It was thanks to Thekk that Dwalin even knew where Erebor’s deepest dungeons _were_.

He’d been down in the punishment pit for days before Balin had been able to get him released. His brother had also found a way to secretly divert a trickle of water down a disused pipe that fed into his cell. It had saved his life.

Then Balin had told Thorin, who had gone to Thrain.

“Stop this foolishness. I expected better of you!” Ceol’s scolding tone of voice sounded a whole lot like Dori’s. “Nyr, you said Thekk was drinking when you last saw him?”

Nori twitched, but he nodded. “With Eir.”

Dwalin smiled sourly to himself. Well, well, well. The handsome courtesan wasn’t so perfect after all. Maybe he nagged Nori as much as his brother did. Serve Nori right.

Ceol turned his attention to Dwalin. “I don’t know who you really are, but it seems like we’re on the same side. A mutual friend has spiked Thekk’s drink tonight, so we’ve got a little time to plan.”

So Thekk was going to be out cold for a few hours, anyway. That was a relief.

Nori stopped pacing and planted himself in front of Dwalin. “You want to make a report. I’m going with you. Ceol and Sieg?”

Sieg nodded grimly. “We’ll keep an eye on things down here.”

Ceol lounged back against a pile of pillows and looked from Dwalin to Nori. “And maybe when you get back, you can introduce yourselves properly."

 


	13. Hello soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin barges into Nori's private apartment, and things get a little out of hand. Smutty, in fact. Things get smutty. 
> 
> (Please to excuse humble author for this unworthy effort)

Nori paced around his small apartment. Plain and almost empty, it held nothing to smash, nothing to crush. Nothing he could spare, anyway.  
  
Mahal’s fiery balls, why was he doing this? He should have stayed in prison, should have demanded the death penalty instead.

King Dis had _agreed_ with Nori—she’d agreed this was Nori’s operation, and Dwalin was there to help him. But she had also refused to punish or even criticize Dwalin for his abrupt departure from the tent village, when the big guard had decided that it was more important to let _her_ know about the reappearance of the criminally vicious ex-general Thekk than it was to share this not-so-minor detail with Nori.

“I work _alone_ ,” he raged to the empty room. He was a fool to have taken King Dis’ deal, a fool to think he could work with Dwalin and maybe— 

It didn’t matter. He was a fool, that was all.

He had to calm down. The operation was not over. Vilna’s work in the bookkeeping office had produced enough evidence to incriminate Spiall in a dozen criminal endeavors. Once Spiall was removed, King Dis said, the other two would not be able to carry on with their criminal enterprise. Now Nori had been given a new objective: Bring Spiall to justice.

First, the oily dwarf would need to be lured out from behind his two underlings, and the best place for that would be in a social situation. So Nori the Hero of Erebor was going to splash out on a lavish party at his disgustingly opulent mansion, and it was almost certain that Spiall would jump at the chance to attend. Not a bad plan, considering it had been dreamt up by a King.

Nori would have preferred a quicker brand of justice than the long-drawn-out legal proceedings the King had in mind. But one never knew how things would go, did one? It could still happen that Jari the low-life murderer of children got what he so richly deserved. King Dis wanted a party, so a party she would get.

Thrusting off his tunic and undershirt and kicking off his boots, Nori took a deep breath and stretched his arms up high over his head. A calm settled over him as he flowed into a series of smooth, meditative exercises that worked his body as they concentrated his mind.

Before he’d gotten half-way through, his door rattled under a heavy barrage of blows. Nori snarled a curse and whipped to his feet. This was not good. He was not nearly calm enough to deal with Dwalin right now.

Of course it had to be Dwalin; he’d been to this place twice before, and dwarves had an excellent sense of direction inside a mountain. Above-ground was a different story, but once they were within the embrace of stone, dwarves rarely got lost.

Also, nobody else knocked like that.

He yanked open the door and glared up into Dwalin’s scowling face. “What do you want?”

Dwalin jerked back a little, blinking down at Nori’s naked torso.  “What—” Then the thunderous scowl reappeared as fast as it had evaporated. “We need to talk. Alone.”

The big dwarf was still wearing the dusty red tunic of the Haradrim. He had stayed with the King after Nori had left, and apparently hadn’t bothered to change out of his disguise before coming here.

He pushed past Nori into the small room, looking around suspiciously.

Nori glowered at the broad back. Big, arrogant warrior with that Durin attitude, looking down on everyone else. Thinks he runs the show.

Dwalin turned on his heel to face him. “Where’d he go? You have a back door to this place?”

“All my places have back doors,” he replied evenly, ignoring the suggestion that someone else had just left. “You want to talk, then talk.”

“Are we alone?”

“Yes, as it happens.”

The big warrior’s eyes lingered on Nori’s bare chest. “You’re sweating.”

“So?” Nori kept his arms loose at his sides. _Let him look. Let him think. Let him be jealous._

The color was rising in Dwalin’s cheeks, rendering his anger and frustration magnificently apparent. Lips drawn back into a snarl, nostrils flared, he searched the room with his gaze, clearly wanting to catch Nori out in some wrongdoing.

_Nothing to see here, officer._

Dwalin turned away from Nori, big fists clenching and unclenching as he addressed the far corner of the room. “I don’t know what you and Ceol talk about during your little pillow sessions, but you should have _told_ me—”

“Oh, like _you_ should have told me about Thekk? The King said—”

Dwalin’s head whipped around to glare at him. “I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt! You were there, you saw what kind of dwarf he is. Thekk never stops—”

They were standing toe to toe, Dwalin’s large body tilted toward Nori like a boulder on a crumbling cliff.

Close enough to bite, close enough to kiss, the big warrior’s fury just a single breath away from becoming a whirlwind. Nori could almost feel those big hands closing around him so hard and tight he would melt in that incandescent heat.

No. Nori was not going to give in. He grabbed the front of Dwalin’s tunic, pushing him away. “Back off. I don’t fuck arrogant, muscle-brained guards.”

Dwalin’s eyes widened, his mouth hanging open for one astonished moment before he lunged forward to grab Nori’s shoulders and pull their faces even closer together. His voice was a rough growl. “What makes you think I want to fuck you, thief.”

The warrior’s hot breath was flowing over his face. Dwalin wanted him. Nori knew it, could feel it in a way that curled inside him like a whirlpool of tension and delicious thrill. Just one tiny yes, one slight movement on Nori’s part would send them both tumbling down into passion.

Fisting his hands in the red fabric of the Haradrim tunic, Nori hauled Dwalin’s mouth down to his. “Because this.”

.

When the thief pulled him down, Dwalin finally realized he’d fallen into the trap.  

Their mouths met with a clash of teeth and tongues. Dwalin’s lips instinctively molded around Nori’s soft, soft mouth, his eyes slid treacherously closed, and his disobedient arms wrapped themselves around the smaller dwarf to pull him close.

“Oh, yes,” Nori moaned, and Dwalin could hear the dark thrill of triumph in his low, husky tones.

He was on fire, and that smooth whisper was like oil drizzled on the flames. He buried one hand in the thief’s wealth of red-brown hair, falling like silk over his knuckles.

Nori’s clever hands roamed down Dwalin’s chest, burrowing underneath the red tunic to stroke his skin. It felt so good, gentle touches like he hadn’t felt in – how long had it been, he couldn’t even remember. He pushed into Nori’s hands. How could he have survived without this?  He could drown in this pleasure, forget everything—

No.

He was weak, a big stupid ox, sinking into the quicksand of the thief’s seduction. Nori took what he could get away with and laughed as he waltzed off with what he’d taken—your gold, your trust, your heart. But not this time.

Dwalin pulled back, shaking his head. “No.”

Nori stiffened. His eyes snapped open, blazing with anger. “Oh, a Durin can’t be caught tupping a thief, is that it? Not good enough for the high and mighty warrior?”

Dwalin’s grip tightened on Nori’s hair. “Don’t think you can play your games with me. I’m not your fuck of the week, to be twisted around your little finger until you find some pretty little courtesan who’s more to your taste.”

The thief stared at him for a long moment. Then he sneered, “You’ve gone too long without a decent shag, soldier, if you’re getting all sentimental on me now. You’re acting like some sweet virgin ready to fall in love with the first dwarf to pop his cherry.”

Fury all but blotted out Dwalin’s vision.

“You lousy—” Dwalin snarled, and brought his mouth down hard on Nori’s. He ground his body hard against the smaller dwarf’s, thick fingers digging into the naked flesh of Nori’s shoulders. “I’ll show you a decent shag.”

. 

_Got him._

Nori smiled as Dwalin’s sharp bites sent jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. Oh, yes, all that hunger was so good. Big rough hands dipped inside his breeches, each hand big enough to cover a whole ass cheek, kneading the flesh before pushing his breeches down far enough for Nori to step out of them.

Nori reached under the red tunic to stroke the hard flesh, feeling the ridges of scars, the perfect burly warrior’s chest heavily muscled and furred with a thick pelt that stretched across the broad pecs and down into his breeches. Dwalin was everything he’d dreamed he’d be, big and beautiful and wanting _him_ with all his uncomplicated animal ferocity.

Act fast. Don’t let him think, don’t let him question what he’s doing. There’s no time to linger—not now, maybe later, don’t miss this chance.

Nori walked backwards to the sofa, pulling Dwalin with him before stopping long enough to skim his hands down into Dwalin’s breeches and flick open the laces, letting his erection spring free. Hard and hot, big and thick, it strained toward him.

He stroked Dwalin’s length once, twice, and then reached into a small drawer next to the sofa for a small tin of salve. He took one scoop and handed it to Dwalin as the bigger dwarf laid him on his back.

Nori’s breathing was shallow, uneven, and fought to get more air into his lungs. So close, so close—all that beautiful strength and power was almost his.  Seeing the passion and longing in Dwalin’s face was the sweetest thing he’d ever known, emotion so pure and so intense, all directed at him.

He exulted as Dwalin pulled him close and crushed his mouth to his, stroked his fingers over his thigh, caressing his skin, moving up to delicately cup his stones and roll them in one big hand before wrapping his fist around Nori’s cock. Then the big warrior’s slicked fingers moved to Nori’s entrance, and he stopped.

Dwalin’s shoulders slumped and he drew back. He shook his head. “No. It won’t work.”

For a moment, the world stopped. Nori stared up in amazement at Dwalin, who looked lost. “What won’t work?”

“I'm too big,” Dwalin muttered.

. 

He should have known it wouldn’t work. He should have remembered why it had been so long, why this pleasure was denied to him.

But he’d gotten caught up in the delicious sensation of kissing that soft mouth, feeling that lean body pressing tight against his, stroking the delicious velvet-hot skin of Nori’s cock.

Then Dwalin had reached Nori’s narrow entrance, already slick from Nori’s own fingers but still too small, too tight to take Dwalin’s lust-swollen girth. It would never work. He’d tear him to pieces. He could feel it.

He couldn’t hurt Nori. He wouldn’t do that. Dwalin was about to back away, when Nori lashed his legs tight around him and pulled him close. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll hurt you.” Dwalin turned his face away. He had always been too big. “There are other things—”

Shock stopped his breath as hard fingers twisted in his beard and yanked his head around.

“Oh, no you don’t, soldier,” Nori growled low and dangerous. “You are not stopping now. You’re going to give me everything, you’re going to fuck me like a dwarf and not some delicate little noble who—”

Damn the thief, who did he think he was talking to? White-hot anger crashed through his veins as he pushed Nori back, lifting one knee up to his shoulder to get the proper angle.  Then he plunged deep into the smaller dwarf’s body, both of them gasping as the ring of muscle gave way and he slid up into that smooth heat, so tight it almost made his mind go black.

Someone groaned, and it must have been Dwalin. He pulled out and drove in again, over and over, feeling the electric sparks zing up his spine as the clenching heat rolled up his cock in waves of pure pleasure. Distantly he was aware of Nori’s body bucking against his, and a strangled groan followed by a flood of wetness between their bodies. But the tension in Dwalin’s back and legs continued to build as he thrust, spiraling higher and higher until he came undone with a shout.

 

Afterwards, Dwalin held himself propped on his elbows, which were planted on either side of Nori. He let his head hang and his eyes drift closed as he recovered. Sparks still tingled down his spine and his breathing was still heavy.

Mahal, he felt good.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. If he ever had.

Then he realized what he’d just done, and opened his eyes. Nori was watching him.

The thief’s eyes were a bright hazel-green, crinkled at the corners with lines etched by laughter and shrewdness. His glorious red-brown hair was spread out in a messy halo that looked like flames sprouting from his head, and the corners of his thin, flexible mouth were curled up into his familiar mischievous smile.

“Hello there, soldier,” Nori said, his voice full of smug victory.

Dwalin sighed. He was in trouble now.

 


	14. To death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Dwalin think about what they've gotten themselves into with each other. 
> 
> Then, Nori throws a party at King Dis' request, in order to get to Spiall the merchant. Nori takes care of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violent death and mentions of implied past child abuse and implied murder.

Nori lay on his back and looked up into Dwalin’s face, watching every twitch of his lips, every quirk of those bristly eyebrows. Was that a softer look he saw in the warrior’s stormy blue eyes? The tender smile of a well-pleased lover?

Well, of course they weren’t lovers, but Dwalin _ought_ to be pleased—Nori was damn good.

A smile, yes, that was definitely a smile – but it was a rueful one, the expression of a dwarf who’d lost a bet. He knew he’d been had.  Which was true, Nori _had_ had him in both senses of the word: tricked him and fucked him.

But it had felt so good. And that was the point, after all—life was short, for warriors and thieves both, so why not enjoy it when you could?

He smiled up at Dwalin. “Hello, soldier.”

In the big dwarf’s eyes, Nori could see desire battling with doubt. Dwalin wanted him but he didn’t trust him. The desire was there, though—maybe it wasn’t the pure, intense devotion that Dwalin had shown so openly for Thorin, but it was better than nothing. A crumb, a tiny scrap, the thief’s portion of the banquet; Nori didn’t expect more.

Finally the warrior shook his head and stood up. “You’re crazier than water running uphill. What was this all about?”

“For fun.” Nori jumped to his feet, waved a hand toward the bath chamber. “Come on, soldier. No time to waste. You’ve got your gold armor to get on and I’ve got to dress, braid my beard, and sharpen my knives—tonight’s party is going to be a bloodbath.”

Dwalin scowled. “You’re not supposed to be killing Spiall tonight. The point is to lure him out of hiding, and hopefully to get him to confess to his crimes so he can be prosecuted under the laws of Erebor.”

Nori bowed with a flourish. “Of course it is! Trust me.”

.

What _had_ that been all about? Back in his own quarters, Dwalin was still shaking his head in puzzlement as he donned the quilted tunic that went under the golden armor of the Royal Guard. He picked up the golden cuirass, polished until he could see his own face in it. He scowled at his reflection. Why would Nori want him?

 _Fun,_ he’d said. A likely story. Who did anything for fun? People did what they had to do to survive, to measure up, to be worthy. There wasn’t time for fun. It was a distraction, a weakness. When lives hung in the balance, having fun could get somebody killed.  Sometimes, somebody got killed anyway.

He sighed. As he buckled the chest-plate in place, he could feel the familiar cold gray fog sweeping in and settling over his heart.

Without warning, Nori’s bright mischievous smile flashed into his mind. Damned thief didn’t respect authority. He took his pleasure where he found it. He drank life’s cup dry without caring whether the cup was filled with ambrosia or poison.

Dwalin smiled. Fucking Nori _had_ been fun. More than just fun—being around Nori made life seem sweeter, somehow. Life was worth living, worth enjoying, when the thief was around.  All that reckless, lusty enjoyment flowed naturally into his fucking, too. What a bonus.

Impatiently, Dwalin pulled off the golden armor and dressed himself in his familiar, comfortable olive-green tunic and Warg pelt. Maybe he had to go to this ridiculous party, but at least he would go as himself.

.

A short while before his guests were to arrive, Nori swept into his opulent mansion in the heart of Erebor. His hair was dressed in his signature three peaks and his braided beard caught into three golden clasps. His magnificent tunic was thickly crusted with gold bullion embroidery in an elegant design of intertwined runes.

“Is everything in order?”

Balder, looking slightly less unkempt than usual in a sober black robe with matching black gloves, bowed to him.  “Exactly as you instructed, sir.”

“Good, good.”  Nori ran an expert glance over the expensive furnishings, then turned his attention to the open cabinet at the far end of the main reception room. The glass and marble case held a treasure trove of the most exquisite dwarven art – life-like flowers sculpted of semi-precious stones with stems and leaves of wrought metal; carved busts of famous dwarves. In the middle of these treasures, resting on a velvet cushion, was a simple gold locket strung on a thin gold chain.

Nori looked at Balder. “I think we’re ready." 

Balder bowed again, and went to admit the first arriving guests.

.

A short while later, Balin asked, “Where is your gold armor?”

Dwalin glared defiantly at his older brother. “It was chafing me.  And I don’t have to wear it all the time if I don’t want to. Besides, I’m not here as a Royal Guardsman. Just as myself.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose, then he nodded slowly. “Fine. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself, brother.”

“I know that,” Dwalin said. “Just everyone keeps asking the same thing.”

“Everyone being King Dis?”  Balin patted Dwalin’s arm. “She understands, laddie.”

Changing topics, the wily counselor began to explain the new farming incentive program that he was developing for the lands surrounding Erebor.  Dwalin listened, nodding from time to time. He didn’t understand a word about farming, but developing a reliable food supply—that made sense. Soon a small group of interested dwarves had gathered around to listen to Balin.

He squinted into his almost empty tankard of ale, and wondered if Balin would mind if he stepped away to get a refill. 

. 

Nori waited in the far end of the main reception room, like a spider waiting for a fly. He kept the welcoming smile fixed on his face as the dwarf who now called himself Spiall approached.

Spiall (or Jari, as he’d been known in the Blue Mountains) was dressed in his usual black velvet and white satin, which perfectly coordinated with his well-oiled black beard streaked with silver. His teeth were square and white, his toothy grin dazzling. Clear diamonds set in silver rings ornamented his soft white hands.

There was a chance that he didn’t remember the thief known as Quicksilver. If he didn’t, Nori planned to remind him.

“Master Nori! Hero of Erebor! I am so honored to meet you!” The prosperous-looking merchant spread his arms wide as if he were going to go in for a hug, before his hands swooped together to capture Nori’s hand and wring it in greeting. 

Nori fought not to snatch his hand away from that soft-fingered touch, fought to keep the smile on his face. “Spiall, is it now?”

There was an arrested look in the dwarf’s cold dark eyes, a frozen instant of hatred and calculation, before the manufactured warmth flowed back into his manner. “Yes, I’m Spiall. Just a humble merchant, my lord. I’ve never claimed to be a hero, like you.”

The slight emphasis on the word _claim_ told Nori that Spiall did indeed remember Quicksilver the thief.

Nori’s smile broadened. “Come now, Spiall. Surely not humble. Everyone in Erebor knows about your activities in the tent village.”

Spiall stroked one corner of his oiled black mustache. “Ah, the tent village. So many unfortunate, wretched people. Thank Mahal I’m bringing them much-needed food and supplies. It’s got to be done, although I can’t say I’m making a profit there.”

 “Not making a profit? I’d say you were making a _killing_.” Nori let the full bite of his contempt show in his voice.

That hit home—Spiall’s dark eyes narrowed with anger. “Oh, so now you’ve turned all righteous? One of King Dis’ pets? Don’t think you can con me into believing you helped to reclaim Erebor, hero. I figure you were just one of the first ones to get here after the battle was over. You always did know a good thing when you saw it, but now you’re getting greedy.”

The merchant swept his hand out toward the display of wealth on the glass and marble shelves, then pointed one long, white finger at Nori’s face. “But don’t think you can interfere with my little plans. Without me, your precious friends in the tent village will all die—Beed and Thekk will see to that. I’m the only thing standing between those two butchers and a general massacre—and the King knows it.”

Nearly strangling on his rage, Nori said quietly, “The King also knows about your little plans for the dragon’s treasure. She’ll stop you.”

“Oh, like you stopped me, with little Hannar,” Spiall taunted.

“Don’t say that name. You don’t have the right to speak that child’s name.”

Spiall gave Nori a look of injured innocence. “Why not? I paid for his education, didn’t I?  Poor, sweet little dwarrow. _He was mine_.” The last three words were snarled, spat out in a paroxysm of fury.

“He was Ori’s best friend, he was like a brother—”

Spiall had turned away from Nori, and with one hand he reached in among the artworks and swept up the gold locket from its velvet bed. He held it up, the angular engraving on the locket’s oval surface catching the light. “Oh, look, a memento. You kept Hannar’s locket, the one that his dear mother gave him so long ago.”

“Put that down. You killed him, you have no right—”

“Me? Kill him? Nooo,” Spiall drawled mockingly. He lifted the locket and pressed it to his cheek, rubbing the metal against his skin. Then he drew back and gave the locket a languishing look, before directing a sneer at Nori again. Deliberately, without taking his eyes off Nori, Spiall stuck out his tongue, pressing it flat to the oval surface and giving the locket a long, lingering lick.  “I loved him to _death_.”

An emptiness that might have been called calm flowed into Nori as he fixed his unwavering gaze on Spiall, who had once been known as Jari. “I know.”

From a dim corner of the room, King Dis stepped forward. “Spiall, you are convicted of these crimes by your own confession, and you will pay for them with your life.”

Nori nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving the dwarf in front of him.

King Dis gestured to a pair of gold-armored dwarves. “Arrest him.”

They marched forward, then stopped when Spiall raised one hand toward them, palm out.

“Wait.” The black-and-silver merchant coughed and lifted his other hand to his throat. “What—” he began in a strangled voice, before coughing some more. The coughs turned to gasps. White fingers clawed at his collar. A red mark like a burn, oval in shape, blossomed on his cheek above his beard.

Spiall’s face turned dark as he gasped for breath, his swollen tongue sticking out of his mouth. He dropped to one knee, arms reaching out to Nori in a gesture that could have been either a plea for help or an attempt to drag him down with him into death.

“What did you do to him?” King Dis asked sharply.

“Not enough,” Nori said, and turned on his heel. “Excuse me. I need a drink.”

Balder bustled up in full butler-mode, blocking one of the guards from reaching for the gold locket, which lay on the floor.

“Careful, now! I’ll handle that.” With two gloved fingers the butler gingerly picked up the locket by its thin golden chain. He waved his hand at the body now twitching feebly on the marble floor.  “You two clean up that mess.”

King Dis sighed, then looked at Nori’s henchman. “Balder, can you find Dwalin for me? I need to talk to someone with a little common sense.”

Balder nodded and disappeared on his errand.

 

 


	15. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long hiatus over the holidays. I resolve to post more frequently from now on.

The party guests smiled at Nori as they bade him farewell. Some even expressed the hope that they would see him again soon. Nobody expressed any concern about the fate of the merchant Spiall – either they hadn’t noticed, or they hadn’t cared.

Balder, still dressed in his black butler’s tunic and black gloves, bowed low as King Dis departed.  He waited until she passed through the imposing brass doors before muttering to Nori, “We’ve looked everywhere. Dwalin’s gone.”

 

**

Dwalin opened his eyes. Sunlight stabbed clear through into his brain, and he shut them again fast.

He tried to lift one hand to his temple where the worst of the throbbing was, but his hands were stuck somehow. He flexed his arms carefully, trying not to jog his aching head, and figured out that his wrists were manacled behind his back.

He was lying on a hard floor. Without opening his eyes, he could smell fish, mildew, and sewage. The creak of wooden walls and the lapping of water against the bulwarks confirmed that he was near the lake.

The last thing he could remember was Nori in his fancy Erebor mansion, wearing that gaudy gold-embroidered tunic and an expression that meant someone was about to die. He wondered who the target had been. Whoever it was was undoubtedly dead by now.

It was time to get out of this place.

All his weapons had been stripped from him; he could feel their absence from their familiar places against his body. He’d been left in his undershirt, trousers and boots. Lock-picks weren’t part of Dwalin’s arsenal, but at that moment he wished he’d stashed some in his boots, the way Nori always did.

Carefully, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a wooden shed.  Fishing nets were heaped in a corner and splintered lumber stacked along one wall beneath a boarded-up window. The thick door boasted a shiny new lock.

There was a rattling at the door, before it was flung open by two hulking fellows who looked more like orcs than dwarves. They both hoisted Dwalin up by his arms and dragged him out onto a pier.

On the pier, the ugly dwarf Beed leaned against a machine that looked like a hoist used to raise and lower loads in a mine. But in this case, the cable hung over the water of the lake.

“Ready to do some diving?”

Dwalin roared and head-butted the nearest thug, who toppled into the water with a satisfying splash. But his hands were still manacled behind him, and after a few minutes five of Beed’s ruffians had him pinned to the ground.

One of them strapped a leather harness around Dwalin’s chest, similar to the one that carried his axes. But this one had a ring at the back that was attached to the hoist. The manacles were removed, but the ruffians held his struggling body down.

Beed squatted by Dwalin’s head. “You’re going to go into the water. Pick up as much gold and gems as you can hold, and then we’ll hoist you back up.”

Dwalin sneered a curse in Khuzdul.

“I doubt it,” Beed said, voice bored. He gestured at his thugs. The ones holding Dwalin jumped back, and the thug operating the machine hoisted him in the air.

“I’ll kill you,” Dwalin snarled, clutching at the rope that rose up behind him, trying to reach the pulley at the top of the machine. But the rope spun out too fast. Dwalin’s feet hit the water. “I’ll never fetch your stinking gold for you.”

Beed smirked as Dwalin’s feet hit the water. “Oh yes you will.”

Dwalin breathed deep right before the water closed over his nose.

His hands were free. As soon as he got down to where they couldn’t see him anymore, he would rip off the leather harness, swim back up and make good on his promise to kill them.

He opened his eyes underwater, looked down at the harness around his chest and waist. He didn’t have much time before his lungful of air ran out. He had to get free.

At his feet in the water around him were glittering piles of gold and coins strewn among the tall ivory arches that had been the dragon’s gigantic ribcage. Pale boulders, stretching in a straight line across the lake bottom, had been the dragon’s spine. Gold, still shiny despite being plunged in water for so long, winked up at him seductively.

Dragon’s gold. Dwalin refused to look at it, closing his eyes as he twisted his arms to feel along his back, feeling for a weak spot in the iron and leather harness. He didn’t have time for gold. Not if he wanted to live.

Gold coins floated up around his knees as he shuffled his feet on the mucky sand. He ignored the temptation as they bumped his legs.

The iron rings that held the straps of the harness felt like they were bent together, not soldered. He opened his eyes again to see if the gap was wide enough to slip the leather strap through.

In the periphery of his vision, the gold coins were dancing in the water. Gold coins free for the taking.

Just one coin – he reached for it before he even realized what he was doing.

 _No._ He pulled his hand away fast, but the coin was still clenched in his fist. Let go let go _letgoletgo…_

He was running out of air; his lungs were bursting. Gold coins were piled around his boots and he reached down for a handful. Just a few.  Just one or two… A yank on the rope tied to his harness pulled him up; they were going to take him out of the water.

No, he bellowed, expelling the last of his air as he clutched at the gold with the tips of his fingers. The gold coins flipped end over end, spinning slowly in the water, and he caught at them. More coins winked brightly at him from among the dragon bones on the sandy lake bottom.

He fought the pull of the rope, clinging to a dragon-rib the size of a young tree trunk. His lungs burned for air, his eyes blurred as he struggled to scoop up more gold. Just another moment or two, and he could have them all.

Sparks were shooting from behind his eyes. His body’s craving for air took over as he slipped toward unconsciousness. His mouth opened instinctively, gasping.  Lake water rushed into his lungs and everything turned to black.

 

**

He came to on the pier, choking and coughing up lake water as someone pounded on his back. He could hear laughter, a greedy and malicious sound.

“This one’s a real diver,” gloated a voice. “He’s brought up more his first time than that old man did all yesterday.”

“Big dwarf, big fists,” growled someone else. “Strong, too.  I nearly had to break his fingers to get the coins out.  Beautiful coins…”

There was the meaty smack of a fist on a body. A sharp, flat voice that was somehow familiar snapped, “Put them in the strongbox.”

“Aww, Beed,” whined the second voice.

“Strongbox. _Now_ ,” barked the one called Beed.

A clinking sound, the clink of gold coins, made the one lying on the pier clench his hands. Empty. The coins that he’d salvaged from the dragon’s corpse, the gold that he had nearly died to get his hands on, was gone.

 _Mine._ With a roar, he leapt to his feet. Rocked unsteadily as the world swooped and spun. Something hit the back of his head, and everything went black again.

 

**

It was dark when he awakened again. He was on the floor with his back propped uncomfortably against the wall of the shed, hands manacled behind him and still wearing the leather harness that they’d used to raise and lower him into the water. A chain from the back of the harness was attached to a ring on the wall.

The leather harness was stiff and crusted with sediment from the brackish water of the lake, and chafed at his bare skin. His boots, which were all he wore except his loincloth, were still soaked and squelching with water on the inside.

In the far corner, slumped on his side, was a gangly, half-grown human male, also bound and wearing a leather harness over a ragged tunic. The face was familiar even with the addition of a purple bruise on the temple, but not enough to have a name to go with the face.

He had a vague memory of more trips to the bottom of the lake, of more blows, and of being stripped when they’d found the precious gold coins he’d tucked into his pockets.

Gold. If he could only get free, he could get back into the water, back down to the gold that was calling to him…

He leaned forward until the chain was taut, pulling at the harness. He could feel where it was weak, the iron ring between his shoulders where the leather straps joined. If he fought it hard enough, perhaps the water-weakened iron ring would bend and he could get free.  He pulled his whole body weight against the chain, grunting a little with the effort.

A noise at the boarded-up window made him lie hastily back down, pretending sleep. He watched as the board was pried free. A shadowy figure slid in through the window and landed lightly on the floor.

Moonlight through the now-opened window showed him a lean-faced dwarf with reddish hair arranged in three peaks and a braided beard gathered into three neat clusters.

He held his breath as the figure crept toward him on all fours, moving lightly on fingers and toes.

The dwarf grinned at him, eyes sparkling.  “Well, well, what have we here?”

A pretty dwarf – lithe and elegantly made, with a self-confidence that bordered on cockiness. He didn’t look like he belonged with the rough bunch who’d chained and beaten him. What was this one doing here? Maybe they could do a deal, go after the gold together.

The red-haired dwarf came close, straddling him and smiling into his face.

“Mmm, nice outfit – all those leather straps and just this tiny little scrap of material between you and me,” the newcomer purred, stroking the loincloth and the awakening cock beneath it with a clever, experienced hand.

Deal-making forgotten, he gasped and arched up into the dwarf’s caressing fingers.

The dwarf laughed softly. “You’re in a better mood than I expected. Diving for gold must suit you.”

Gold. He looked up at the dwarf, forcing himself to ignore the long delicate fingers that were now questing underneath the loincloth to touch his flesh.  “Unchain me, and I’ll show you where the gold is. There’s more than enough for both of us.”

The hand stopped. The dwarf’s smile stayed in place, but his eyes narrowed. “Oh really? Is that your plan – go for the gold and forget all about Beed?”

Beed. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but – “Of course, the gold.”

The dwarf was frowning now. He sat back on his haunches and looked down at him with a puzzled expression. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I?”

Disappointment flickered over the dwarf's face, but he shrugged. “Never mind. What’s _your_ name?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. No name popped into his mind, no word that identified itself as him. He thought harder, searching his memory for a name. An identity. A past.

Nothing.

A flicker of terror ran through him, but he swallowed it down. _Who was he?_ “Does it matter? Set me free, and I’ll show you how to get the gold.”

A rustling sound outside drew the dwarf’s attention. A new voice, belonging to a Man, whispered, “What’s the delay?”

The dwarf stood, looked out the small window he’d entered by. “There’s a slight problem.”

They argued in whispers through the open window. The Man shook his head and turned away, but the dwarf grabbed his tunic and pulled him back.

“Wait there,” the dwarf told the Man, then produced a set of picklocks from somewhere on his person.

The red-haired dwarf bent down, removing the manacles from his hands and then releasing the chain from the harness. He helped him to his feet, held him as the room spun briefly. There was a caress in the way the red-haired dwarf touched him, something that made his skin shiver. _Did they know each other?_

When he tried to remember, a black pit yawned open in his mind, a dizzying emptiness that he instinctively backed away from. _Not now._

He looked around, trying to hold onto something familiar to steady himself. The young human was still lying on the floor in the corner. He nodded toward the boy. “What about him?”

The redhead looked in the direction he’d indicated, and then swore. “Sieg, get in here,” he called out the window.

The dwarf picked the lock on the shed door and then freed the unconscious youngster, who was then picked bodily up by the human called Sieg as if he were no burden at all.

“They’ll pay for this,” Sieg said.

“Quiet,” hissed the red-haired dwarf.  “Ceol, where are you?”

A second man entered, wearing a short white kilt and a blaze of gold jewelry on his neck and arms. Gold, brilliant and pure, sang its soaring song in the pale moonlight. Gold, precious gold, clogging the senses with its rich beauty, impossible to resist. Desire for gold swept down like an avalanche.

A shocking pain to his wrist, a sudden wrenching twist, brought him back to himself. The redhead loosened his hold, but still kept his hand where it was. Both Men were standing like statues, glaring at him.

What had he done?

After a moment, the tension faded. Sighing, the tall man shook his head before vanishing through the door with the young man in his arms. Ceol followed but stopped in the doorway, turning back to address the red-haired dwarf.

“He’s been in the water.” Ceol’s voice was cold.  “Once they touch the cursed gold, there’s nothing left to save. Leave him here.”

The red-haired dwarf’s grip tightened on his upper arm. “No.”

“I’m sorry, Nyr. All that exists for him now is the gold. He doesn’t know you anymore. He probably doesn’t know who _he_ is anymore.” The man looked sad. “He’s dead already. Leave him, or you’ll die too.”

Ceol walked out through the door.

The dwarf called Nyr looked up at him with grief-stricken eyes. “Tell me you know who you are.”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

The snick of a crossbow bolt sliding into place caught both their attention. Three dwarves stepped into the shed. The dwarf in the middle, ugly and squat with the eyes of a hound  dog, leveled a crossbow at Nyr.

Hot rage seared his mind. These were the ones who deserved to die. He took a step in front of the red-haired dwarf. If he was dead already, he might as well be of some use. Nyr’s hand stopped him.

“Come to volunteer your services, Nyr?” sneered the crossbow-holding dwarf. A memory swam up – his name was Beed. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

 

 

 

 


	16. Get serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori rescues Dwalin, but can the dragon-sickness be cured? It's never been done before.

Nori wasn’t worried about being shot by Beed.

Beed wasn’t going to kill anyone—he needed his captives alive. His two henchmen were armed with thick clubs; a few broken bones wouldn’t prevent someone from diving for the dragon’s gold.

But Dwalin…forced into dragon-sickness, no longer knowing even his own name, he had gone after Ceol’s gold jewelry like a ravening beast at the sight of a fresh kill.  Nori nearly had to dislocate the big dwarf’s wrist just to get his attention.

What was Dwalin going to do now?

Beed and his two henchmen blocked the shed door, smirking as if they’d already won.  Nori breathed a sigh of relief as Dwalin dropped instinctively into a fighting crouch and growled at Beed and his men. At least he would attack the right people, this time.

The big dwarf ducked to scoop up the chain that had anchored him to the wall of the shed, now lying loose on the ground. He twirled it a couple of times before letting it lash out to catch one of the henchmen on the side of the head. The thug staggered back with a squeal of pain.

Now Beed was following Dwalin with his crossbow, apparently deciding that the powerful warrior was more trouble than he was worth. The tent village was full of weak and docile replacements…

Nori dodged the other way, whipping out his knives to slash at the second henchman. The thug moved back, allowing Nori to get closer to Beed.

Close enough to see him put his finger on the trigger. Lift it and point it at Dwalin.

Nori shouted a warning.

He jumped toward Beed, knives stabbing upwards, searching for the weak points—under the armpit or into a belly. All his focus was on stopping Beed. Nothing else mattered. He felt the jolt of the crossbow firing as he plowed into Beed, and hoped he’d managed to throw off his aim.

A cry—was that Dwalin? He was turning to look when pain exploded along his back and ribs. The second henchman’s club had caught him hard, driving the air out of his lungs. The club hit his side again. Another blow caught him on the backs of the thighs. He fell to his knees. A final vicious smack landed on his ankle, agonzing despite the protection of his boot.

No. No, he couldn’t let himself be injured. Dwalin wasn’t himself. Ceol and Sieg didn’t understand. Nori had to get Dwalin out of here, figure out what was wrong with Dwalin and fix it. Get out of here, get Dwalin back. He deserved the chance to—

He rolled free of Beed and sprang to his feet, only to fall to one knee when his ankle gave out under him. A club came whipping toward him and he threw up one arm instinctively to protect himself as he ducked. The club missed. Without warning, he was grabbed roughly and flung over broad shoulders. Breathless, head spinning, Nori struggled against whoever was carrying him.

Dwalin’s growl sounded next to his ear. “Stop that.”

Sagging with relief, Nori pressed his forehead against the hard muscle and bone of Dwalin’s shoulder.

The air was fresh. They were out of the shed, moving fast, but there wasn’t much he could see from his awkward position on Dwalin’s back. They crashed into some bushes.

“Put me down.”

Dwalin set him down, and Nori staggered as his injured ankle sent up a lightning bolt of pain. _Shit._ He clutched at the big dwarf’s arm for support.

Sieg’s voice sounded close by. “Ceol’s got Seth. I’ll handle Beed and the other two. Rendezvous at the secondary meeting spot.”

Nori shook his head. “We’re going to ground for a while. We’ll be safe. You take care of Seth and Ceol.”

The Dunlending frowned at Nori like he wanted to argue. Instead, he switched his glare to Dwalin. “You hurt Nyr, I will hunt you down.”

Nori could feel Dwalin’s arm tensing up. Behind them, Beed stumbled out of the shed, shouting to his henchmen.

“We’ll be fine,” Nori said quickly. “Go!”

Sieg went, raising his sword as he charged toward the thugs.

Nori looked up at Dwalin. “There’s a cave on the other side of Raven Hill…" 

**

 

It was embarrassing. Of all the various hits he’d taken, the one to Nori’s ankle should have been the least trouble. But he couldn’t put any weight on it, and that slowed them down so much that Dwalin finally picked him up and carried him all the way to the hideout cave, barely seeming to notice the weight of a full-grown dwarf in his arms. By the time they got there, birds were singing sleepily and the sky was washed with the gray light that marked the hours before dawn. Maybe they could get a couple hours’ sleep before dealing with Beed and his boys again.

Dwalin set him down in the sandy spot that Nori had cleared for sleeping, then went looking deep in the cave for the small bundle he’d left in an inconspicuous niche. It held a blanket and some way-bread. Too bad he hadn’t thought to include willow bark or another pain reliever in his stash, along with some bandages to strap his ankle with.

It could have been worse. Dwarves were tough, made strong like the stone and metal they worked. And Nori had managed all by himself before, with worse injuries than he’d suffered this time.

Sighing, Nori set to ripping up his tunic for bandages, since it was practically the only non-essential piece of clothing they had. Dwalin was wearing nothing but the leather diving harness around his chest, his loincloth, and his boots. Although he normally was modest to the point of prudishness, at the moment he didn’t seem bothered about walking around nearly naked. It wasn’t like him—was this one of the things about him that had been changed by the cursed gold? How much _had_ he changed?

Not that there was anything wrong with Dwalin naked. The leather straps over those broad shoulders and across the muscular torso just seemed to point out that the warrior’s body was a weapon honed to physical perfection.  Dark tattoos swirled on his biceps and pecs. Battle scars lay like pale streaks among the thick gray-brown curls that spread across his chest and angled down to a strip of darker hair that disappeared into his loincloth. Powerful thighs and calves rose up from his heavy boots.

Dwalin caught him looking. A reddish tinge climbed quickly up the big dwarf’s cheeks. He scowled, crossing his huge arms tightly across his chest.

Nori almost smiled. Maybe some things hadn’t changed. “Your memory come back yet?”

Dwalin shook his head, eyes averted, arms still crossed tight. “Just some random stuff, ideas and pictures that come and go so fast I can’t make them out. Fighting, mostly.”

Holding out some of the way-bread to him, Nori said, “You’ve done a lot of that.” He tried to keep his hand from shaking.

Dwalin grabbed the food, swallowed it nearly whole. “Are you cold?”

“Can’t get warm. Probably just tired.”

“Here. Lie down.” Carefully, the warrior settled down behind him, his front pressed against Nori’s now-tunicless back, that big body shedding heat like a furnace. It felt good, peaceful. Nori shifted a little on his side, trying to get his tightly-bound ankle comfortable enough that the rest of him could relax.

But he couldn’t relax. There was too much to do. They didn’t know what had happened with Ceol and Sieg. How did the rescue of Seth go? Where was Beed? What was going on in the tent village?

Behind him, Dwalin’s breath stirred the hairs on his neck. His voice rumbled through Nori’s chest as he spoke. “Nyr. You know me. I mean, you know who I am.”

Nori froze. That was a nice point. He knew a fair amount about Dwalin, Thorin Oakenshield’s right-hand dwarf, member of the Company and Hero of Erebor. But what did he know of the dwarf who had come out of the waters of the lake? Was it better to tell him what Dwalin had been like, or let him decide who he was now?

Cautiously, he said, “Yes.”

“What’s my name?”

Nori answered, “Around here, you’re known as Adnan. Caravan guard, sell-sword, people know you’ve come to the tent village outside Erebor looking for work. You’ve traveled in the East a lot. You don’t like Beed, or the other low-life who’s been terrorizing the tent village.”

Dwalin was silent, unmoving. It was impossible to tell what might be going through his mind. “There’s more. You’re not telling me everything.”

“It’s complicated. But that’s the story we’re telling the people in the tent village. For now, you’re Adnan.”  That was all true, as far as it went. Perhaps it was best to let him have the situation in small chunks instead of dumping it on him all at once.

Finally, he felt the big dwarf nod. Nori relaxed a little.

“Why was I chained up in that shed?”

Would the word gold, all by itself, be enough to set off the dragon-sickness? Nori spoke carefully.  “You were kidnapped and made to dive for the cursed…treasure under the dragon’s carcass. It drives the divers mad with greed and they forget about everything except the g—except that. That’s all they care about, all they want. Eventually, they drown trying to get more.”

The warrior’s body stiffened. “What’s the cure?”

“I don’t know.” He was glad now that he couldn’t see Dwalin’s face. After a long pause, he added, “We’ll think of something.”

Dwalin snorted, apparently recognizing lameness when he heard it. Then he asked, “You and me?”

Back in dangerous territory again. “What do you mean?”

“You got pretty friendly with me back there in the shed. After you came in through the window.”

_You and me._ How much would Dwalin ever remember of his life before? What if he _never_ remembered the way things had been? Unlike Dwalin’s identity and the problem of the dragon-sickness, this was private. Nobody else knew what had passed between Nori and Dwalin.

If he was clever enough, he could talk Dwalin into thinking he worshipped Nori. He could spin a tale, claiming Dwalin was his passionate, fiercely devoted lover. He could say that Dwalin thought Nori was a brilliant, clever, crafty hero and a jewel to be prized above all others, rather than the shady, disreputable thief he really was. He could argue that Dwalin desired him, admired him, loved him with all his ferocious heart. Maybe Dwalin would even fall for it.

Ah, but if he did… Wouldn’t love like that be worth a little lie?

Nori had never pretended to be a _good_ dwarf. He’d lied, cheated, stolen and killed to get what he wanted. It was a pretty good bet that he could talk fast enough to get Dwalin to believe such a fairy story. The warrior didn’t even know his own name; he could be had.

Nori grinned, savoring the moment. He was finally going to get exactly what he wanted. Then he opened his mouth and this came out:

“I was just kidding around. There’s nothing serious between us. We’re on the same side, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Dwalin moved slightly, probably nodding his head.

Ugh, why had he _said_ that? Nori wanted to take it all back, rip the spoken words out of the air and bury them somewhere deep where they would never be heard. He had one brilliant opportunity, and he’d blown it.

Without warning, soft kisses mingled with hot breath ghosted along Nori’s neck. He gasped, shivering at the unexpected touch.

Dwalin rumbled, “We could _get_ serious.”

 

 


	17. Avalanche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut. That's about it.

The red-haired dwarf’s – Nyr’s – naked shoulder was right there in front of him, firm ripe flesh over steely sinew and muscle. Pale, freckled skin, so cool under his lips, proved impossible to resist.

His kiss was rewarded with a delicious full-body shudder from Nyr. _Oh, yes._

They must _know_ each other, but how? What _were_ they, to one another?

Did that even matter, when here and now was all there was? Nyr’s body was hot where their bodies pressed together; cool where his skin was exposed to the night air. Velvet soft to the touch; hard as stone underneath.

His mind had been dark, full of empty soundless spaces like dead-end caves, but when Nyr had slipped into the lakeside shed, he’d changed everything. His touch had ignited a blaze of lust, driving out the dark and even briefly erasing the potent lure of the gold.

Now he craved that heat, wanted to lose himself in that blaze.

“We could _get_ serious,” he whispered into Nyr’s ear, watching the half of his face that he could see.

The corner of Nyr’s mouth curled up. A silent laugh, hardly more than a puff of air, followed. “Yes, we could.”

A lightning bolt of memory struck: He was braced on his elbows, gazing down into Nyr’s smiling face, noting the sly triumphant curl of his lips and the tousled glory of all that ruddy hair spread out on the cushions.

“Did we do this before?” They must have, but he wanted to _know_.

A pause. “Yes, we’ve done this before.”

He grinned to himself. “I hope we did it a lot.”

Nyr looked over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised, his smile a wicked invitation.

Encouraged, he slid one big hand around Nyr’s torso to stroke his chest, just skimming over the skin. Nyr grabbed his hand and pressed it down hard, kneading his chest firmly.

So, Nyr didn’t like it too gentle. Curiously, he stroked the lean body, dragging his blunt fingernails across the swelling muscles, grabbing Nyr’s tight arse, noticing when a light brush of fingers made him squirm away and when a hard grip earned a hum of pleasure.

By this time they were facing one another. Nyr’s own hands were busy, too, undoing the leather harness with an almost careless flick of those long, clever fingers and then roaming over his own rough, scarred torso, leaving a trail of sparks on his skin.

He tugged at Nyr’s trousers, fumbling with the laces.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Nyr grinned, shucking off his trousers and smalls, lifting them carefully over his injured ankle.

Who wouldn’t be eager? He reached for the smaller dwarf again.

Nyr held him off, carding those clever fingers through the thick gray-brown hair on his chest and frowning thoughtfully. “You sure you want to?”

“Yes.” With an impatient growl, he fisted one hand in that silky mass of red-brown hair. Beautiful, soft, _familiar_ hair. He tightened his fist, enjoying the way Nyr moaned and ground against him.

He could get drunk on those moans, those eager little panting sounds.  Knowing he could make Nyr shake and sigh was intoxicating. He wanted more.

It felt almost like sparring, like a good fight, that sense of being so in tune that he could almost anticipate Nyr’s reactions, instinctively knowing how to dance the fine line between pleasure and pain.

He kissed along Nyr’s collarbone, biting and sucking down toward his navel, then down to his cock, already half-hard. He took him into his mouth.

Nyr gasped.

Another lightning bolt of memory struck: the smell of Nyr, musky and dark. He smelled like blood and like danger, a heady salty, metallic tang that reminded him of cold air, rock cliffs and the plunging, ungovernable sea.

Nyr’s hips arched up, cock standing tall and begging for attention. He obliged, swirling his tongue around the head before taking him in deep as he could. Nyr’s fingers clutched at his shoulders.

He lifted his head, looked up at Nyr. “Oil?”

Nyr’s eyes were dark with lust and his lips slightly parted like he was lost in pleasure. But he wasn’t too far gone. From somewhere, he produced a small tin of smooth salve.

Taking it, he coated his fingers with a generous amount. He returned his mouth to Nyr’s waiting cock, then carefully breached him with a finger, savoring Nyr’s whine at the double sensation. When Nyr seemed to be taking him easily, he added a second finger. He took his time, working with mouth and fingers to bring the smaller dwarf close to the edge. 

When he couldn’t wait any longer, he moved up Nyr’s trembling body until they were face to face. He lifted one knee, spreading his legs apart, eager to take him, to use him, to glory in plundering that beautiful body.

Nyr shook his head, pushed at him. “No. On your back.”

Obligingly, he rolled onto his back, bringing Nyr with him and settling him on top.

Nyr straddled him, grinding down into him – a flash of memory again, this time of being outside, among bushes? _Bushes?_  In the memory he was swamped by a sudden spike of lust. Then Nyr gave a theatrical groan of desire; Nyr was laughing.  He remembered fury mingled with arousal. _I want him – and I can’t stand that I want him._

What _had_ they been to each other?

But now it was different. This time, he wanted him and he _had_ him. Nyr’s desire was real. He held still, watching as Nyr pressed down onto his cock, eyes closed, mouth open. The slick heat of Nyr’s body tightened around him and whatever they had been before, it didn’t matter. He didn’t care that he couldn’t remember his own name. He didn’t need a name. Didn’t need a past.

Nyr rode him, rising and falling, moving to find the right angle. He held on with both hands to Nyr’s waist, letting the pleasure build inside him like an immense weight grinding down on a mountainside. Without warning, his peak fell on him like an avalanche, burying every thought. A moment later Nyr clenched hard around him, then sagged forward.

He let his head tilt back, waiting for the sparkling shower of sensation to recede. He opened his eyes and looked up at Nyr, who smiled down at him.

“Well, soldier, glad to have you back.”

A shock ran through him.  _A name._ The name had come to him, and he knew it immediately.

“Nori,” he said. “Your name is Nori.”

Nori’s eyes widened. He put one finger to his lips in a sign for secrecy, and leaned in close. His breath was warm as he whispered, “And your name?”

He thought hard. Then he shook his head, defeated. No words came out of the empty black space in his mind to identify him.

Nori was his real name. He _knew_ that.                         

But he was still a mystery to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My research seemed to indicate that people with amnesia will sometimes regain their memories in fits and starts, slowly, and for no known reason. Sometimes all their memories come back, sometimes not. But really, there's a lot we don't know about how the brain works. 
> 
> And I really don't know why Nori's scent is like the sea. *shrug*


	18. In the Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Dwalin have time to re-group.
> 
> Warning for a brief mention of someone feeling physically overpowered.

Nori froze as Dwalin whispered hot words in his ear. “We could _get_ serious.”

In all the long nights when Nori had imagined Dwalin wanting him, Nori had never thought that Dwalin would simply … offer. Would simply slip his big arm around Nori’s waist to pull their bodies together, skin against skin, and whisper an invitation in that heart-churningly deep growl.

But Dwalin was not himself; he couldn’t even remember his own name. Who knew what damage had been done to him by the cursed gold? Other people forced to dive for the dragon’s gold had been turned into monsters by their gold-lust.

Now, Dwalin’s big powerful body pressed against his back; one muscular arm holding him close in an unbreakable grip; hot breath blowing against his neck and ear. Dwalin _wanted_ , and he was strong enough to take what he wanted.

Nori stilled, fighting not to flee. He took two long slow breaths, hoping his heart wasn’t banging so loud Dwalin could hear it. Yes, Nori wanted him too, but on _his_ terms; he had to keep control of this situation so he wasn’t overwhelmed, either by the big warrior or by his own long-simmering desire.

“Yes, we could,” he said, proud to hear his own voice sounding cool and slightly cocky.

To Nori’s relief, Dwalin seemed to have recovered his self-control. He’d been both eager and generous, letting Nori set the pace. They had climbed fast and hard to a fiery peak.

Afterward, he lay with his head on Dwalin’s chest, still straddling the warrior’s hips, relaxed and drifting.  Nori could get used to this—to Dwalin not remembering he was a thief. Maybe he would _never_ remember. It was pleasant, being desired by the most ferocious, intimidating noble of the royal house of Erebor, hard and unyielding as granite, most loyal and true of dwarves.

Then Dwalin had looked up at Nori and spoken his name.

Nori closed his eyes. “You know who I am.”

He felt Dwalin shrug beneath him.

“I know your name.” The warrior’s hands stroked up Nori’s thighs to his ribcage. The hands settled on Nori’s waist as he frowned in thought. “You’re a good fighter. I remember that. Clever, quick to spot any openings, cool head, very strategic. You use a long-handled mace—nice heavy head to it, gives you a greater reach. And you’re good with knives. And … juggling? Something about juggling.”

Nori discovered he could breathe again, even felt himself smile. Typical Dwalin – perfect recall for weapons and fighting style. “Anything else?”

Dwalin shook his head. “Just the fighting.”

There was a flutter of wings at the mouth of the cave. Nori rolled off Dwalin, turning in time to see a raven, its wings slightly spread as it hopped toward them. Its bright black eyes were fixed on them.

Dwalin sat up and glared at the raven. “Shoo,” he said, flicking his big hands at the bird.

The raven cocked its head to one side. “Biscuits?” 

It didn’t sound birdlike at all, but like an oddly perfect replica of a dwarrowdam’s speech.

“No,” Dwalin growled.

The raven made a croaking sound. Then it said, in a deeper-sounding voice, “Treasure?”

“No!”

Nori chuckled, and the raven’s head jerked in his direction. It ruffled its wings and took a few stiff-legged steps toward him. “Pretty boy! What’s your name?”

“Nori,” he replied, amused. “What’s yours?”

“Preek.”

“Hello, Preek. Sorry we don’t have anything for you.”

He watched as the bird fluttered up to perch on one of Dwalin’s boots, dipping its long black beak inside it.

“Get away from my boots!” Dwalin scrambled to his feet. “Those are mine.”

Nori put a hand on his arm. “Wait.” He addressed the raven. “Preek, I’ll give you a nice shiny treasure if you’ll carry a message for me."

Dwalin snorted. “Forget it. That raven’s not going to help us. We’re better off finding clothes and medicine on our own.”

The raven croaked again, ruffled its feathers, and then flew out of the cave.

“Wait! I didn’t tell you the message,” Nori shouted after it. “Ah, Mahal’s mithril balls. You didn’t have to be rude, Dw—”

He bit the name off before it could leave his mouth. If Dwalin heard his name, would he remember who he was? And would he remember how he felt about Nori, the thief in the shadows?

Dwalin stood in the mouth of the cave, eyes following the black speck that was the raven. Nori drank in the sight of the warrior’s naked body as the early morning light revealed the fierce splendor of iron-hard muscles and ink and scars.

Then the big dwarf turned to Nori, his expression implacable. “You need to tell me what’s going on. All of it.”

“You’re okay? You’re not –” Nori didn’t want to mention the dragon sickness or the gold.

“I can’t _remember_.” Dwalin’s big hands were clenching and unclenching. “The harder I try, the more the memories slip away. Whatever is out there, I’m fighting it blind.”

Nori was silent for a long moment as he committed every detail of Dwalin to his mind. His scowl; his big, skilled hands; the deep growl of his voice. Being a thief meant learning how to let go, Nori had learned that lesson long ago. The trick was to know what it felt like to hold that precious thing in your hands, to burn that feeling into your soul and then to tuck the memory deep inside, where it could never be lost.

Then he sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s not over yet, and you need to know.”

As they got themselves cleaned up, he told Dwalin they’d been sent by the King to get rid of the thugs preying on the people in the tent village. That two of the criminals, Beed and Thekk, had been in league with a third one in kidnapping villagers and forcing them to dive for the gold and jewels embedded in the dragon’s carcass. That as far as anyone knew, the divers never survived the experience.

Dwalin bowed his head as he listened, his brow furrowed. He nodded.

A flapping of wings drew Nori’s attention to the entrance to the cave. The raven had come back.

“There you are,” Nori said. He moved carefully toward the bird. “Good raven. Nice raven. Listen to this message—”

Clomping footsteps silenced him, and both he and Dwalin stepped farther back into the cave. Then Oin’s bushy gray beard poked around the corner.

“Hello the cave!” Oin shouted. “Anybody in there? I’m a doctor.”

With a sigh of relief, Nori called out, “Over here.” He was surprised to see Ori behind the old doctor.

“Don’t tell Dori,” Ori hissed, holding out a bundle of clothing.

“Thanks,” Nori said. “What did you bring?”

“Well, the raven said there were two of you, and you needed complete sets of clothes, one big and one small, but that wasn’t very—Oh!” Ori ended on a squeak as Dwalin, wearing nothing but his loincloth and boots, stepped out from the cave.

Ori’s face turned bright red and he shut his eyes tight. Arms stiff, he held the bundle of clothes out to Nori. “Um, clothes. Take them.”

Dwalin scowled at the scribe and retreated back into the cave.

Nori took the bundle and chucked it back into the cave. “There you go,” he called.

As Oin set to work re-bandaging Nori’s ankle, Nori told Oin and Ori what was happening in the tent village. Dwalin came out of the cave wearing a pair of Dori’s purple trousers. They fit around the warrior’s lean hips, but the beautifully embroidered hems dangled around the middle of his calves.  

Ori squeezed his eyes shut again. “The tunic?”

“Didn’t fit,” Dwalin grumbled, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Didn’t want to rip it.”

Nori stifled a snort. At least Dwalin was beginning to act more like his usual modest self. The warrior’s body might be a breathtaking representation of dwarven strength and power, but Nori suspected that Dwalin didn’t think much about the effect those rippling muscles had on other dwarves.

Oin bustled over to Dwalin, brought out a canteen filled with water. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to Dwalin. “Here you go, lad. This is what you need.”

Dwalin looked puzzled, then picked up a square of unused bandage and poured some of the water onto the fabric. He gingerly wiped the wet cloth down his front.

“No, no, no,” Oin fussed, grabbing at the canteen. “Don’t wash with it. Drink it, lad.”

Dwalin stared at the old apothecary. “Drink it? But it’s _water_.”

“You can drink water. It’s perfectly safe,” Oin huffed. “This water flows from a special spring deep within the mountain. Its healing properties are well-known. It will dilute the poison of the dragon’s water you drank.”

“Will that work?” Nori asked.

“It can’t hurt,” Oin said with a shrug. “In my medical opinion, though, the curse lies in the dragon, and not in the gold. Dwarves have worn and worked with gold since Mahal made us. The dragon’s body has most likely contaminated the gold, and therefore also the water around it. Rid yourself of the water, lad, and you’ll remove the curse.”

Screwing up his face, Dwalin drank the water.

“Do you feel any better?” Nori asked after a moment or two. “Remember anything else?”

Dwalin shook his head.

Preek the raven hopped up onto a nearby rock, and had been watching the proceedings. “Biscuit?”

“Oh!” Ori exclaimed, and dug his hand into his pocket. He brought out a small packet wrapped in oiled cloth. “I brought these for you, my lady.”

He opened it to reveal some slightly crumbly biscuits, which he offered to the raven. She – leave it to Ori to know the proper way to address a raven – gave a few happy-sounding croaks and fluttered over to peck at the offered treat.

Nori smiled fondly at his little brother. “Thanks.”

Distant voices made him gesture to the others to keep quiet. The raven fluttered up to a rock on the slope above the cave entrance, where it gave a croak and a deep, gurgling call.

Then the bird said, “Ceol! Sieg!’

Ceol’s voice replied, “Well met, my lady! We’ve come in peace—can you tell us where our friends are?”

Nori relaxed and rose up from behind a rock. “Here.”

Ceol stopped a short distance down the slope and smiled up at him. “Hello, sweeting. I’ve got some news for you, and we have need of your help.”

Behind him, Sieg stood protectively with his saber in his hand. “Where’s the big dwarf?”

To Nori’s slight annoyance, Dwalin stepped forward. “Here,” he growled.

“Are you in your right mind?” Sieg asked him bluntly.

“I don’t like you any better than I did before,” Dwalin replied. “So that’s a yes.”

 Nori rolled his eyes.

 Ceol laid a gentle hand on Sieg’s arm. “Now, now. We came to give Nyr some good news.”

“What news?” Nori asked.

“We’ve captured Beed,” Ceol said. “And we wanted to let the King know. It’s time for King Dis to show us what the justice of Erebor looks like.”

 

 


	19. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the bad guys has been caught, but the other one is still free. Dwalin still doesn't remember everything, but his memory is coming back in bits and pieces.   
> The plot thickens.

The dwarf called Adnan hung back and watched Nori give a series of orders to Ori. Nori’s tone was businesslike but there was a softer edge to his voice as he spoke to the little scribe, and Ori looked up at him with an expression that was almost worshipful.

“…And after that, let King Dis know we’ve got one of the bastards. Have her send the Royal Guard to take him to stand trial.”

Ori nodded and made a few notes in a small journal. Then he and the apothecary Oin hiked off along the side of the mountain toward the main entrance to Erebor to carry out their errands.

The big dwarf knew Adnan wasn’t his name—but it would have to do until he remembered his real name. It would come back to him. In time. He hoped.

He might not know his own name, but he knew he’d been a professional soldier. That much he’d figured out from the fight the night before—his body had reacted instantly, dealing out violence with deadly efficiency. He was a finely-tuned instrument of war.

Or at least, he had been.

Memories tickled at the edge of his mind—bright flashes of blood, a glimpse of his axes swinging toward threatening dark forms. And not too far away, a glint of red-brown hair, the color of cinnamon. Nori, fighting at his side.

Adnan contemplated the lean dwarf who stood in the mouth of the cave where they’d spent the night. Scruffy and casual, with bright mischief in his eyes and a cynical twist to his flexible lips, he looked more like a sneak thief than a representative of the King’s justice. Everything about Nori was surprising; just when you thought you knew him, you didn’t.

Sharp and bright as his knives, Nori was. So, what did he want with a dwarf who was nothing more than a blunt instrument? A _damaged_ blunt instrument.

Whatever his reasons, last night Nori _had_ wanted him. Adnan had seized the opportunity, and it had been good. Very, very good. He could still taste the triumph he’d felt—as if he’d waited a long time before he had finally caught the elusive dwarf.

He gritted his teeth. Why couldn’t he just _remember?_

Nori spoke again, this time addressing the two Men who had come to give them the news of Beed’s capture. “Good work, Ceol, Sieg.”

Sieg, a wiry Dunlending man, thrust his saber back into its sheath. “We’ve got Beed, but Thekk is still out there somewhere.”

“We’ll get him too.” Ceol, a handsome man wearing the brief white kilt of a professional courtesan, stepped up to Nori and pressed their foreheads together. “Ah, sweeting, you are our champion, the hero of the powerless and ignored.”

Nori grinned, openly admiring the man’s powerful sculpted muscles, long dark fall of dreadlocked hair, and well-styled beard. Ceol preened, aware of his exotic attractiveness—of course he was aware. His looks were his stock-in-trade.

A hot surge of anger threatened to choke Adnan. His hands clenched on air. The memory of two axes, his favorite weapons, bloomed in his mind. Where were his axes when he needed them?

Sieg, clearly some sort of bodyguard to the courtesan Ceol, caught Adnan’s eye and put one hand on the hilt of his saber. With an effort, the big dwarf controlled his expression. They all seemed to think that he still had the gold-sickness, but he didn’t think so. Today, he didn’t feel any attraction toward the gold that Ceol wore on his neck and arms. Maybe gold-sickness could just run its course like a bad fever 

What he felt now was—this was just common sense. Working with these men was a bad idea. He didn’t like it.

“Nori. A word with you,” he growled.

Nori looked irritated, but allowed Adnan to lead him back into the cave. “Well?”

Adnan got his thoughts in order. He could be cool and reasonable. He would just calmly point out that yesterday, this pretty man Ceol had been willing to let Adnan die. How callous was that? But then, a human _was not_ as loyal as a dwarf, no matter how pretty he might be. Dwarves didn’t need the help of Men. Nori didn’t need the help of these two, so Nori should not smile at the man. Not even look at the man. Not _want_ the man…

Adnan shut his mouth before the rant escaped. Cool. Reasonable. Finally he managed, “I do not trust him.”

Nori’s eyes narrowed. “I do. They caught Beed. Ceol and Sieg are tent villagers themselves; they want to see an end to the oppression. Ceol is helping us.”

“He’s just doing it to get to you!” Adnan gripped Nori by the shoulders, pushing him back up against the wall of the cave. “He _wants_ you. Can’t you see that? You can’t trust him.”

A knife appeared at the big dwarf’s throat. Nori’s eyes were chips of green glass as he pressed the point lightly against Adnan’s skin. “Let. Me. Go.”

Fury clawed at his gut, but he held it back. He dropped his hands, thrusting Nori away. “Are you going to fuck him, too?”

Nori tilted his head to one side and pressed his lips together. Silence stretched out between them 

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Adnan could feel the heat rising up his neck, prickling under his beard, flushing his face red with shame. What was he, a romantic little dwarfling in the throes of his first puppy-love, hoping to keep Nori all to himself? He pasted a sneer on his face. “Have a good time, then.”

Nori kept staring at him, face unreadable. Finally, he said, “Glad we sorted that out.”

Before he could turn away, Adnan said, “You said you knew me. From before.”

Nori nodded.

“Then you know I don’t do _casual_ ,” Adnan spat out.

“You did last night, soldier,” Nori snapped back. He turned on his heel and strode out of the cave.

 

.

A short while later, Nori walked down to the tent village. No breeze stirred the morning air and the tents seemed to hang limp from their poles beneath the warm bright sun. Ceol and Sieg had already returned to their tent, now temporarily serving as a jail. The Royal Guard had been summoned to pick up the prisoner. The only loose end was rounding up Beed’s partner Thekk, and then the job would be done.

Dwalin, dressed once again in a Harad outfit conjured up by the amazing Balder, stalked along behind Nori radiating silent fury.

Nori could feel the weight of Dwalin’s stare on his back. In his mind, Nori played over the scene in the cave: those big fingers pressing into his shoulders, angry snarl on the warrior’s face, that rough voice so bitter and anguished. _I don’t do casual._

By rights, Nori should have been overjoyed. He wanted Dwalin—if he were honest with himself, he’d wanted him for a long time. In the beginning, it had been because having Dwalin’s loyalty and devotion would prove that Nori was worthy of such a noble warrior. But now, he’d seen a different Dwalin, the fiddle player, the lame-joke-teller, the lover. He’d seen Dwalin ferocious, helpless, generous, kind, suspicious…

No. Dwalin deserved better. When his memory came back and Dwalin realized who he’d been falling for, he would regret it. Nothing ever really belonged to a thief. Casual was best.

Nori hadn’t realized how deeply he’d sunk into his thoughts until a shadow fell across the ground before him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the juggler and his dimwitted friend.”

Five heavily armed dwarves stood in their path. The leader, a gray-haired old soldier with a silver-handled quirt hanging from his belt, stood between them with a knife at the young village boy Seth’s throat.

“Hello, Thekk,” Nori drawled, lifting one hand casually to the neck of his tunic near where one of his throwing knives was hidden. “Looks like you saved us the trouble of hunting you down.”

Two of the underlings looked familiar, one with black hair and the other with a recently broken nose. They both had crossbows pointed at Nori’s heart. Nori glanced around, gauging distances and considering the possibilities. The third henchman, standing almost at the edge of Nori’s peripheral vision, held an axe in one hand and a mace in the other. And judging from the angry growls behind him, the last underling, a big, hulking dwarf, was pointing a weapon at Dwalin.

Nori’s fingers slid carefully toward his concealed knife. The old soldier Thekk barked, “Ah, ah, ah. Hands away from your weapons or I’ll slit this one’s throat.”

He shook Seth by one thin shoulder. Dwalin gave a strangled roar and began muttering curses. The old soldier ignored him, and directed his attention to Nori.

“We’ve been looking for you, Nyr. We think it’s time we talked a little business. We want Beed back. We’re reasonable dwarves; we’ll make a trade. Give us Beed, and we’ll let you two and this boy live.”

“And if we don’t?” Nori said evenly.

Thekk moved his knife-hand, and a thin drip of blood began to seep from the boy’s neck. “Then we’ll just kill the three of you, and go after Beed ourselves. But there’s no need for bloodshed. We want Beed alive. You want to stay alive too, so we’re going to do this my way. Turn around and march.”

“Wait,” Dwalin said from behind Nori. They all turned to look at him.

Dwalin stared at Thekk. Nori remembered that Dwalin told him he’d had an old commander named Thekk, a brutal general who had nevertheless managed to whip his troops into battle-readiness.

“Here’s a better plan,” Dwalin said. “If you show up with the three of us as prisoners, Sieg will cut Beed’s throat. So let Nyr go talk to them first, and convince them to make a trade.”

Nori tensed up. He didn’t like the way Dwalin was talking. What was he planning to do?

“There are only two of them, and one is not a fighter—he’s a courtesan. What can two weak humans do against five well-armed dwarves?” Dwalin went on. “You only need one hostage. Let the young one go, nobody cares about him.”

Damn. He was doing it, the big idiot; he was putting himself in danger.

Thekk thought it over, and then nodded. He looked over at the thug beside Dwalin. “Bring that one along with us,” he ordered.

The thug grabbed Dwalin by one huge arm, and Dwalin did not resist. Nori began, “I don’t—”

Thekk turned to Nori. “You know where Spiall’s warehouse is, on the eastern edge of the village? Bring Beed there, and we’ll make the trade. Be there before the sun reaches the treetops over the lake.”

Nori glanced up at the sun, already past noon. That didn’t leave him much time to come up with a plan. He opened his mouth to protest but Dwalin caught his eye. The big dwarf frowned and shook his head just a fraction.

Mahal’s blasted anvil, what did that big idiot think he was doing now? The risk he was running was immense – what if Thekk would decide to settle some old score by roughing Dwalin up while he had him in his power?

And the thought of Dwalin’s danger during the exchange – both prisoners taking that agonizingly long walk across to the other side, marksmen on both sides taking careful aim to make sure both made it, or neither did. All it would take would be one crossbow bolt to the back to end Dwalin’s life. Then the big warrior would be joining his dead king in the halls of their ancestors, leaving Nori to face the rest of his life alone.

Nori wasn’t going to get Dwalin killed. And by Mahal’s stones, if Dwalin was trying to buy himself a ticket to the afterlife, Nori was not going to make it easy for him. 

One of Thekk’s underlings tugged at Dwalin’s arm. The big dwarf refused to budge. “The boy goes free.” 

Thekk laughed and shoved Seth toward Nori, making the young man stumble and fall to his knees. “We’ll be waiting, juggler.” He and two of his thugs led Dwalin off toward the warehouse. The big dwarf’s spine was straight and stiff as he went.

Nori clenched his hands. No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Plans churning through his mind at top speed, he took a moment to look at Seth. “Are you all right?”

The boy nodded. “What do we do now?”

 “We fix this.”

  


	20. At the Warehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two hostages are exchanged -- the evil Beed for Dwalin, who let himself be taken hostage by the bad guys in the place of the young human Seth. Now Nori has to figure out how to save Dwalin without losing control of Beed, who is to stand trial in front of the King for his crimes. 
> 
> Can't think of what specifically to tag, but there's violence and stuff.

Nori ducked under the canvas flap into Ceol’s tent and froze in place. The thick fabric turned the light inside the tent to a dusty gold and trapped the heavy summer air, making the interior moist and hot.

But what he saw made his blood run cold.

One of the occupants of the tent, a thin, wiry human woman, was holding a sharp-tined pitchfork to Beed’s neck.

Seth, hard on Nori’s heels, bumped into his back. The young man gasped. “Mother!”

She glanced over her shoulder at the two of them. Beed, sitting tied to a chair, didn’t look around. The ugly dwarf who’d terrorized and extorted the tent villagers had his gaze fixed on the farm tool threatening his life.

Nori looked at Seth’s mother, eyebrows raised. “Where did you get the pitchfork?”

Without taking her eyes off her prisoner, she said, “Man who runs the stable where the caravans unload. Told him I was guarding Beed, so he gave me this and said to stick it up his ass.”

“Bitch,” Beed spat at her.

Seth growled, “Don’t talk to her like that, filth.”

Seth’s mother smiled at the trussed-up captive. “He wanted to do it himself, but a new caravan’s arrived from the East and he can’t take the time away from work. So he said to just wash off the blood before I gave it back. He’s a tidy sort of man.”

As she spoke, the canvas tent flap behind Nori rustled, and Ceol and Sieg stepped in. Sieg had his hand on the hilt of his saber. Ceol smiled at the woman. Neither looked surprised. 

“Thanks,” Nori told her. “You and Seth can take a break now. We’ll take care of him from here.”

She looked at Ceol for confirmation, in the manner of a soldier seeking the permission of a superior officer. He nodded and she relaxed.

“It was my pleasure,” she told Nori grimly. Gesturing to Seth, she led the way out of the tent, carrying the stable owner’s pitchfork with her.

Nori moved toward Beed, who shrank back in his chair. “Come on, Beed. Time to go for a little walk.”

“A walk where?” Ceol demanded.

Ceol was the unofficial leader among the tent villagers. He’d filled Nori in on the way things worked in their makeshift society and pointed out the corrupt and greedy people who were preying on them. In return, Nori had promised that the King of Erebor would rid the tent village of those undesirable individuals—legally and permanently.

Ceol wasn’t going to like what Nori was planning to do next.

“Spiall’s warehouse,” Nori answered in his best off-hand tone of voice. “We’re trading him for D— … for Adnan.”

Both Ceol and Sieg stared at him in amazement.

Beed sneered. “He’s sweet on the Southerner. He’d do anything for him. Thekk has got the juggler by the short hairs.”

“Shut up,” Sieg growled, lifting a fist threateningly at Beed.

“Nyr, a word with you.” Ceol wrapped one hand around Nori’s upper arm and pulled him out of the tent. Once they were outside, Ceol gave him a pitying look. “I hate to say it, but Beed’s right. You let this Southerner get under your skin and now he’s going to get you killed.”

“That’s my business,” Nori said shortly.

Ceol shook his head. “No. If you are trading Beed for your lover, you’ve made it _our_ business. The people in this tent village deserve to be free from people like him. You promised that the King would give us justice. You give up Beed, and you’re giving up our chance for justice.”

“We have to do this. If we don’t show up with Beed, Thekk’s going to kill him.”

The courtesan blew out a long breath. “Nyr, I’ve got a whole village to think about, and you can’t be sure he’ll ever recover from the gold sickness. I’m sorry, but you don’t owe him anything and you can’t fix him.”

Nori clenched his fists tight, stiff at his sides. He kept his eyes focused on the ground. He would not lash out, not at Ceol, who had his reasons even if he was _wrong_.

This wasn’t about whatever Nori might feel for the gruff and burly dwarf. Dwalin _was_ recovering from the gold sickness. Nori could see the memories coming back, little by little. More importantly, Dwalin was still himself – surly, stiff-necked, and true to the very center of his being. He’d put his life on the line for Seth, a human boy, just because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t do casual.

There was no way Nori would give up on him.

Fighting to make the words come out right, Nori whispered, “Yes, I do. And I can.”

He glared up at Ceol. “We’re doing this my way. We’re making the trade, then we’ll capture them all and deliver them to the Royal Guard. You’ll get your justice.”

Ceol took a step back, lifting one hand against whatever he saw in Nori’s face. “That’s all what we want—justice.”

“Then you need Adnan,” Nori argued, pressing his advantage. “He’s the one who can testify against Beed and Thekk. Without him, we don’t have a case against them.”

“We need you too, Nyr,” Ceol countered. And if this goes wrong, Thekk might kill you both and get Beed back.”

Nori grinned mirthlessly. “Not without a fight.”

Ceol sighed, giving up. “Then Sieg and I will help you fight.”

 _Well, that was a relief._ Nori nodded. “Good. I’ll take Beed to the warehouse, and Sieg will come along to guard Beed. You stay here and keep an eye on everyone else—keep the bystanders out of it.”

As they turned to go back into the tent, Seth stepped out of the shadows. “I’m coming too. Thekk was holding me prisoner and Adnan gave himself up for me.”

Together, Nori and Ceol shouted, “No!”

Ceol said, “You are too young. Your mother needs you—go find her and do what she says. Now!”

“Do it, Seth,” Nori added.

The boy hesitated a moment, looking mutinous, but then ran off in the direction of the stables.

The sun was tilting toward the horizon as Nori approached Spiall’s warehouse. He ran his fingers over the crossbow in his hands, feeling its weight, getting used to it. Not his favorite weapon, but necessary in case the other side decided to pull any tricks during the exchange. Beside him, Beed swaggered along the wide dirt avenue between the tumbled buildings and tents of the village, pretending not to notice the point of Sieg’s sword digging into his back.

The warehouse was a large, rectangular stone box set on the very edge of the village. To one side, the banks of the River Running sloped down to the water’s edge; on the other side, a big tent provided overflow storage when the warehouse was full.

The solid dwarf-made steel doors at the front of the warehouse were closed. Above the main doors, the shutters of a large window had been opened to just enough for the gang inside to keep watch on the street below.

Across from the warehouse stood a decrepit wooden barn, now empty of livestock but strewn with enough hay and droppings to show that it had recently been in use. Apparently word of the confrontation had spread quickly and the owners had prudently removed their animals from harm’s way.

Nori slipped into the barn, gesturing for Sieg and Beed to follow him. He looked at Sieg’s grim face, and then at Beed’s smirking expression. “Right. I’ll tell you when to start walking. Until then, stay out of sight.”

He walked to the door of the barn, keeping to shadows. He could see the archer standing in the large upstairs window of the warehouse. He lifted the crossbow to his shoulder.

“Thekk!” he shouted. “We’re here. We’re ready.”

.

 

Spiall’s warehouse was crammed full of boxes and bales and barrels. Food and fuel, clothing and candles, everything one could need. The dwarf called Adnan frowned as he looked around—there had been so many complaints about shortages in the tent village, but there was more than enough for everyone here.

He had to bide his time before trying to escape. Although his hands weren’t bound, he was surrounded by members of the gang: several dwarves lounged around a small table, drinking ale and waiting for their orders but still keeping an eye on him. Their leader, Thekk, talked to a heavy-set dwarf who seemed to be his second-in-command. A lanky human with a longbow like the ones used in Dale sat a little ways apart from the dwarves, checking over his bow and inspecting his arrows.

Adnan eyed the archer. The man had a sour expression on his face, and his fingers twitched on his bow whenever he looked at his leader. He grinned at him. “You like working for Thekk? Nice easy work. Women and children don’t shoot back.”

“Shut up,” the archer growled, turning back to his arrows.

“And your aim doesn’t have to be that good either,” he went on, moving a little closer. “It’s not like they’re smart enough to avoid you. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Good for someone who has no honor.”

The archer lashed out with a fist, aiming at the dwarf’s nose. The dwarf ducked. The blow connected, but instead of landing on soft flesh it struck a hard dwarven forehead. With a howl of pain, the archer clutched his hand.

“Stop it, you fool!” Thekk snapped, hauling the archer away by his shirt. “This one is a dwarf of Erebor, a warrior I trained myself. You’ll break your own hand before you do any damage to him.”

The archer looked up from his injured hand. “From Erebor? He was under your command?”

“That was a long time ago,” the dwarf said automatically, only realizing as he spoke the words that he was telling the truth. Glimpses of training in Erebor with other recruits, of Thekk roaring across a parade ground, filled his mind.

Thekk spat at his former trainee’s feet. “Defiant, ungrateful scum—you and all the rest. Weak, too. Especially your darling little prince, who couldn’t take the punishment that a real dwarf could handle.”

Images flooded the dwarf’s mind: a dark tunnel ending in a thick oaken door with a tiny peephole at eye-level. A cell holding a black-haired dwarf with blue eyes and purpling bruises on his face. The dwarf had a name: Thorin. He’d been missing for days, thrown in a secret prison for the crime of confronting their commanding officer over the death of a new recruit.

Blinking at the sudden onslaught of memories, he looked at the gray-haired dwarf with the silver quirt standing in the warehouse in front of him: General Thekk. Their old commanding officer, older now but no less cruel.

“You were dimissed,” he said slowly. “You brought disgrace upon the Army of Erebor, and King Thror himself stripped you of your rank and ordered you out of the mountain.”

“I was a hero!” the former general raged.

“Fighting orcs is one thing. Training soldiers is another.” He remembered it now. Thorin had dared to stand up to Thekk, and the prince had been thrown into Thekk’s private prison without food or water. He’d nearly died for it. Luckily Thorin had been found and rescued.

Thekk came closer. “Well, well, for a soft little noble who carried tales to the King about me, you lasted longer than I’d have expected.” The ex-general slapped his quirt lightly against his own thigh. “You even survived diving for dragon gold. Gold-lust and deep water is usually a lethal combination for dwarves. Then again, who knows if the other dwarves would have recovered the way you have? Beed never gave anyone the chance." 

“I know. And soon the King will know. You and Beed are going down for this.”

Thekk brought his face close to his captive’s, and said in a soft, deadly voice, “But will _you_ ever be the same again? The dragon’s taint is not so easily washed off.”

“Here they come,” the archer said suddenly from the open loft above them. “They’re in the barn across the street. They brought Beed.”

The henchmen around the table stood up, abandoning their drinks. Thekk called up to the archer, “Can you manage a killing shot from up there?”

“Yes, I can drop anyone standing in the street, or in front of the barn. There’s a clear line of sight.”

They were planning to shoot him dead before he got across the street. His neck prickled. If they cared about getting Beed back, they would probably hold their fire until he was almost to safety. But they weren’t planning on letting him live.

In an undertone the archer muttered, “As long as they don’t go behind the supply tent. Can’t shoot around corners.”

“What was that?” Thekk called.

“Just that I need the shutters taken off the east window, too, so I can shoot from there.”

Thekk barked a command, and one of the thugs scrambled up the ladder to the loft with a crowbar. Then the old general hauled his captive to his feet. Pulling him to the door, he said, “See that barn across the way? You’re going to walk straight from here to there, no funny business.”

“I see Beed,” the archer reported from above.

Thekk shoved him through the door. “Walk.”

Outside, the sun was bright, too bright, making him squint. Across the dusty street, he could see Beed standing in the doorway of the barn. Next to him stood Nori, a crossbow in his hands.

He stepped out into the sun.

.

 

“All right. Go.” Nori put the point of the crossbow bolt against Beed’s back and pushed, enough to make Beed flinch and move forward.

Beed chuckled over his shoulder. “Ha. Look at your Southerner. I’ll bet Thekk’s boys worked him over good.”

“Get out of here before I kill you,” Nori said in a low and deadly voice. “Walk slow."

.

 

He walked across the open dusty ground. Without moving his head, he swept his gaze around as much as he could. There were villagers hiding in the shadows, peeking out from behind ragged tents and tumbledown buildings. He could see their eyes glinting as he crossed the wide street toward the barn. They were watching him.

The air was breathless with afternoon heat. A trickle of sweat slid down his back under the Harad tunic. The archer in the warehouse loft was watching him, too; he could almost feel the arrow pointed at his back. The archer would shoot him soon. Every step took him closer to the barn where Nori was waiting. And closer to an arrow in the back.

Nori looked tense, his eyes hard and his knuckles white on the crossbow he aimed at Beed’s back. Nori shouldn’t have agreed to this prisoner exchange— King Dis was going to throw Nori back in jail if he didn’t deliver Beed and Thekk to her. Ex-General Thekk was planning to kill Nori so he and Beed could escape the King’s justice. The safest course would have been to wait until the Royal Guard stormed the warehouse and arrested the gang.

But Nori was risking Beed in order to save _his_ life. Perhaps Nori did sort of like him after all. It was a cheerful thought, that. Very encouraging. Something he could take to his grave.

Beed had been walking slowly toward him. He was within talking distance now. The ugly thug was talking out of the side of his mouth.

“I told your little boyfriend that he was wasting his time on you. Nobody recovers from the gold sickness. You’re damaged, permanently.”

 _Never recover._ The fear of it stoked the fury building inside him. _Never the same_. He clamped down on his feelings and didn’t react. It wasn’t true, he wouldn’t listen.

He could feel the arrow aimed at his back. Looking ahead, he saw the glint of the sun on the crossbow bolt Nori pointed at Beed’s fleshy back.

“You lost everything,” Beed taunted softly as they came shoulder to shoulder. “We took it from you. You don’t even—”

Suddenly, desperately, without warning, he leapt at Beed, grabbing and pushing him down, shoving him as far as he could toward the shelter of the supply tent. Fast, hard, before the archer in the warehouse could shoot.

Shouts erupted from both sides – Nori was yelling at someone not to shoot. Farther away, Thekk was roaring in outrage. Arrows buzzed, crossbows twanged, and missiles struck their targets with a hail of sharp cracks.

Beed hit the ground with a grunt. He was heavy as stone, with a dwarf’s low center of gravity, and hard to topple over – but the two combatants rolled over and over, momentum carrying them out of range. They wound up between two pegs anchoring the supply tent with Beed lying on his back and the other straddling him.

Beed fought back, powerful arms clutching, trying to get free. He writhed and bucked, taking a punch in the face before throwing his opponent off.

They both got to their feet. Beed staggered a little, wiping off the blood that dripped from his nose. He sneered, “You big nothing, we ruined you. You don’t even know your own name.”

Blinking through reddened eyes, choking with dust, the dwarf lifted his fist. Drew it back.

“Dwalin Fundinul, at your service,” Dwalin said, and punched Beed as hard as he could.

Beed’s eyes rolled back in his head. He flopped back to the ground, unconscious.

.

 

An arrow splintered the wood of the barn’s wall just inches from Nori’s head. He dodged back, awakened from the trance he’d fallen into watching the fight between Dwalin and Beed.

He swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Dwalin Fundinul,” he said softly. Then he grinned, feeling amazingly light, and shoved another bolt into his crossbow. He fired at a black-haired dwarf sticking his nose out the warehouse’s front doors. The dwarf drew back smartly.

“I see two of them sneaking out on the river side,” Sieg reported. “They’re circling around to the left of us.”

Nori growled in irritation. “If they get behind us, we’ll be in trouble. Can you—”

“Wait! Look over there,” Sieg crowed. “Someone is shooting at them.”

“Who?” A volley of arrows striking the front of the barn distracted Nori, who was running out of crossbow bolts. He loaded another bolt, casting a glance over at Dwalin, who was looking warily at the warehouse. Nori hoped he wasn’t going to risk dashing over to the barn. He waved his hand at the big dwarf in a “keep down” gesture.

“Oh, my lovely Ceol, you are most welcome to this fight,” breathed Sieg.

“Glad to hear it,” Nori muttered, his eyes still on Dwalin.

A hand plucked at his sleeve. “Sir? I believe you are in need of ammunition,” Balder said. He set a box of crossbow bolts on the ground, and then delivered another crossbow and more bolts to Sieg, who accepted them gratefully.

This time, Vilna had come with her husband Balder.

She addressed Nori in her dry, precise way. “Sir, the King asked me to inform you that the Royal Guard are on their way. And so is Lord Balin, who has expressed concern about the health of his younger brother.”

Nori sucked in a deep breath. “The Royal Guard we need. Not so sure about Lord Balin. Can you head him off?”

Vilna looked doubtful.

Sieg called over, “How long before the Royal Guard gets here? As long as Thekk is holed up in the warehouse, we’re just wasting our ammunition.”

Vilna nodded to Sieg and informed Nori, “Mr. Sieg is right, sir.”

“I know he’s right,” Nori replied, annoyed.

Seth scurried into the barn. He was cackling with glee. “Hey, Nyr, guess what I did! I left Thekk and them a little present from me!”

Nori rolled his eyes. “I thought I told you to stay out of this!”

“I got it from the caravan. The one that just come in from the East, you know? So I just laid it up against the side wall of the warehouse for them.” He cackled some more. “That will teach them not to mess with my family!”

Vilna looked down her rather thin nose at the young man. She sniffed disapprovingly. “What sort of present, you irresponsible young human? And you’d better have paid for whatever it is. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You worry too much, my love,” Balder said soothingly. “What damage can one boy do?”

WHUMP. 

An explosion rocked the ground. The concussion was loud enough to make Nori’s ears ring. In the silence that followed, the people in the barn stared at one another in astonishment.

“Wow,” said Seth in tones of awe. “I didn’t know it would sound like _that_.”

“Your mother is going to be very displeased with you, young man,” Vilna chided.

“Nah,” Seth replied. “She helped me put it there.”

Dwalin charged in through the barn door. “The warehouse wall blew up. There’s a giant hole there now. Thekk’s men are coming out. Look!”

Nori looked. One stone wall had been torn open, as if a giant child had knocked apart a plaything. Chunks of stone and mortar lay in a big circle around the blackened hole. The steel doors of the warehouse had been flung open, and dwarves and men were stumbling out, dazed and coughing.

“Come on!” Dwalin urged. “Don’t let them get away.”

Vilna coughed politely. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“What do you mean?”

The street outside was no longer quiet and empty. Tent villagers who had been lurking in safety now mobbed the space in front of the warehouse. The thugs who had emerged from the warehouse were surrounded by angry people, shouting and pummeling at them with their fists.

“This is bad,” said Sieg. “The Royal Guard better get here fast, or there won’t be anything left of them for the King to throw in prison.”

Another group of villagers had climbed over the blasted debris to the gaping hole in the warehouse wall. The closest one was waving the others in, shouting about food.

Balder asked Nori politely, “Where is Mr. Ceol, sir?”

“Um, over near the river, I think,” Nori answered.

“Mr. Sieg, Vilna and I will attempt to join with him to restore order. You take your time, sir.”

“I’m going too,” Seth said. “I’m pretty sure Mom is out there somewhere.”

Suddenly the barn was empty except for Dwalin and Nori.

Dwalin had his gaze fixed unwaveringly on him, like a predator stalking its prey. He took a step closer to Nori, moving with the smooth control of the powerful animal that he was. Dwalin’s face was bruised, his knuckles were bleeding and his black Harad outfit was covered with dust. His blue eyes burned in his fierce, craggy face. He looked dangerous, angry, and implacable.

Nori cleared his throat. “So. You got your memory back?”

“Yes,” Dwalin replied. His voice sounded husky and deep. He kept moving closer. 

“Going back to the Royal Guard, then?” Nori asked lightly. “Now that you remember you’re a noble and all. Also, we’re done here. Case closed. No reason to hang around a tent village anymore.”

Dwalin stopped. He was still looking deep into Nori’s eyes. “No reason?”

Nori shrugged. “You don’t do casual, remember?”

Dwalin looked like he was going to answer, but before he could, a dwarf in the golden armor of the Royal Guard stepped into the barn.

The Guard crashed one mailed fist against his breastplate. “Lord Dwalin, sir. We’ve rounded up the gang members. King Dis has arrived, and wishes to speak with you and Lord Nori.”

Nori winced. “Just Nori.”

“You may tell Her Majesty we’ll be right there,” Dwalin replied. Then he turned back to Nori.

"I’m ready now,” Nori said quickly, and followed the Guard out into the dusty street.

  


	21. One Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin needs to know where he stands with Nori. Here be smut. Hope it pleases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I"m going to warn for dub-con, because somebody lets their emotions take over, and they act in an aggressively sexual way.

Days passed. The trial of Thekk and Beed took up most of Dwalin’s time and energy. Nori was nowhere to be found.

Trials were just like battles, Dwalin decided. Dressing in fine tunics, standing at attention, answering questions before King Dis dressed in all her royal finery—this type of battle produced a different kind of exhaustion, but he was still exhausted at the end of each long day.

Balin had been busy too. He’d been in non-stop meetings, arranging new programs, settling disputes and organizing the tent villagers into a prosperous, thriving community. So, the few times they met, Balin just clapped him on the shoulder, peered into his eyes, and nodded. Apparently whatever he saw there satisfied him that his younger brother was doing fine. 

A week later, Dwalin ran into Ceol after one of those meetings on the future of the tent village. The courtesan was dressed in dwarven-style clothes now, his handsome torso covered in an embroidered and bejeweled robe and his muscular legs swathed in concealing trousers. But he still wore the necklaces and jewelry that marked him (to those who knew) as a member of his profession. 

The courtesan greeted him. “A word with you?”

Dwalin nodded warily. “Of course.”

It wasn’t that Dwalin disliked him. Ceol genuinely cared about making a good life for the refugees in the tent village. They had become his people and he was their leader. And, in all fairness, being a courtesan caused less harm than being a soldier did. 

But Ceol and Nori … Had Nori visited the courtesan recently? Dwalin hoped this conversation wasn’t going to be about Nori. He didn’t want to find out that Ceol knew more about what Nori was doing than he did, but he did want to know where that red-headed thief had gone, and why. If Ceol could tell him about Nori…He wasn’t going to ask about Nori. 

They stepped into one of the quiet alcoves in the Palace. Dwalin folded his arms and glowered.

Ceol didn’t look intimidated. Dealing with King Dis, Balin, and the other high councilors of Erebor would toughen anybody – if being a courtesan hadn’t done that already. 

“Lord Dwalin—”

“Just Dwalin,” he interrupted. He’d had enough of being a Lord.

Ceol nodded impatiently. “Dwalin. As the newly appointed Mayor of the village—which we’re going to call New Manarbul, meaning the Marketplace—I have been empowered to ask if you’d be willing to serve our community as Keeper of the Peace.”

Dwalin’s jaw hung open for a moment before he snapped it shut. “Keeper of the Peace?”

“You’d be charged with settling disputes, preventing or solving crimes, and enforcing the law,” Ceol explained.

“A Guard, basically,” Dwalin said. This was unexpected. Not about Nori at all. “But you’d need a troop of Guards.”

“Yes. You would have deputies to assist you.” Ceol was warming to his topic. “We have a mixed bag of residents, both human and dwarven, and so their cultures and lifestyles are different. Different expectations about how to behave, even in everyday social situations, can cause friction. The important thing is to deal with situations before they get out of control, if possible, and to enforce the laws when that’s not possible. We wanted someone who was strong enough to establish order, but who also knew the village well. You are the best candidate for the job.”

Dwalin nodded, still stunned. Then he pulled himself together. “But Nyr—”

Ceol waved a hand dismissively. “You won’t be dealing with him. He’s got other work to do, according to the King.”

Dwalin looked down at the ground, trying to get control over the feeling that his heart had turned to lead. Of course Ceol would know what Nori was up to. Of course he wouldn’t tell Dwalin. Bottom line, Nori hadn’t told Dwalin that he had other things to do, other people to see. Other people who mattered more.

He started to get angry. Nori was gone, and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. Hadn’t said a word to him. Hadn’t taken the time to tell Dwalin that whatever they’d had, whatever they’d been to each other, it was over. 

Ceol was looking at him with a slight frown, lips pressed together. “It’s better this way. You are not good for Nyr. He has taken too many risks for your sake. You distract him, and distractions could cost him his life. I don’t know what you expected of him, but … “

“Nothing!” Dwalin burst out. “I didn’t expect anything. But he could have said—“ He stopped himself. 

A pause. Ceol said softly, “Oh. Well. I gather you haven’t gone to see him.”

“There hasn’t been time,” Dwalin growled in a fierce undertone. “But I’m going to fix that.”

Ceol smoothed the palms of his hands down his fancy tunic. “I think perhaps you should.”

Dwalin nodded his thanks, then turned on his heel. He was going to find that damned thief and straighten this out immediately.

“Oh, Dwalin,” Ceol called after him. “Keeper of the Peace?”

Dwalin thought for a second. “I’ll take the job. Sounds worthwhile.”

Ceol smiled. He wiggled his fingers in a satisfied farewell. 

.

Dwalin went to Thorin’s tomb, and sat beside the stone sarcophagus in the royal crypt. 

“Thorin. If you were here, you’d tell me not to dwell in the past.” He sighed and rubbed his upper arms against the cold. “So, my old friend, I hope you’re watching over me. But if you are…just don’t laugh too hard when I screw this up.”

He nodded once, then stood up and left.

.

 

Dwalin had a good idea of where Nori was hiding out. He’d gone to ground in that little apartment of his, tucked away in a forgotten corner of Erebor. After having been there twice already, Dwalin knew the way. 

What would he say to Nori when he got there? 

He would tell him not to be stupid. He would say that when two people liked being together, what was the point in staying apart? 

There wasn’t any difference between them. They were both members of Thorin’s Company. They were both Heroes of Erebor, for however much that mattered. They were both good at what they did, they both liked the work they did and they worked well together. 

Dwalin liked Nori’s brothers, Dori and Ori. They seemed to like him too. Nori liked Balin, who treated him with the same slightly amused tolerance that he treated everyone else. Neither of their families would object if they were together. 

Being without him was painful. When someone made you feel better when the world had lost all meaning, when just thinking about them could make you smile, when your body ached for theirs and finally being with that one person made you feel such bliss that—No. He wasn’t going to say that. Basically, he would say, what was the big deal? They should just be happy. Together.

Dwalin had his speech all planned out by the time he hammered on Nori’s door. 

Then the door opened and there was Nori. He looked so good. Red-brown hair the color of cinnamon. Hazel eyes between green and gold. That lean and muscular body. Those thin, flexible lips, slightly parted in surprise. 

Dwalin’s carefully-prepared speech evaporated from his head. All he could see was the skin he wanted to touch, the lips he wanted to kiss, the hair he wanted to bury his fingers in. It had been so long, so long and every bit of him ached to touch and feel Nori. He wanted to smell his scent, to taste his flesh, to ram himself into that agile body and feel as close as two people could be. 

Words were useless. Anger bubbled up inside him. Days had gone by, and not a word from Nori. Not a clue about what he’d meant, back in the barn after the shootout with Thekk. He’d turned and walked away—just dropped him cold. Left him to wonder what had gone wrong. Dwalin’s brain switched off, and his body took over. 

He stepped inside, slammed the door shut and grabbed Nori, shoving him up against the nearest wall. “You,” he growled. “You think you can get away with what you’ve done. You lie, you cheat, you steal – you’re a thief. I should arrest you.”

Fury and need twisted together in his gut, filled him until he could barely breathe. Clinging to the last shreds of his self-control, he closed his eyes. His arms went around Nori’s body, caught him up in a tight, hard hug, and gloried in his thief’s responsive shiver. As his mouth sought Nori’s ear, he felt his own breath, shaky and almost panting, along the side of Nori’s face. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” Dwalin breathed in his ear. “Mahal damn you.”

 

.

For one fatal moment, Nori hesitated. He opened the door and Dwalin was standing there, hulking and red-faced, fists clenching, eyes accusing. Beautiful and terrifying like an avalanche come to life, unavoidable as a rockslide in the mountains.

Then those huge arms had gone around him, crushing him tight to that broad chest until all there was was Dwalin’s hard cock pressing against his thigh, Dwalin’s scent filling his nose, and the growl of Dwalin’s voice in his ear damning him. 

And Nori melted.

He should have stiff-armed the big dwarf, told him to go back to the upper-class life that he belonged in. Should have slammed the door shut. Told him it was over. They couldn’t do this.

But instead he melted into Dwalin’s embrace, feeling those big fingers clutching his back hard. By the way he was shaking, Dwalin was just barely holding himself back. The warrior rubbed his bearded cheek against his, warm breath filling his ear. Nori moaned. 

Dwalin felt so good, that hard hot body pressed against his, all that pulsing need directed at him—so perfect it turned his legs to jelly. He longed for this, just this: Dwalin wanting him with the whole of his fierce heart. Nori the thief had always given up what he wanted because it was the safe thing to do, the smart thing; but every self-denial had been like a wound that never healed. 

Sending Dwalin away was smart and safe for both of them. He had to do it. “You know you belong back in the royal guard. Let’s make this a friendly parting.”

“I’m done with friendly.” Dwalin pushed his face into Nori’s, his teeth bared, the whole length of his huge body rubbing against Nori’s slender frame. “I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy.” 

Oh, that sounded so good. Nori could feel his eyes widening and his head nodding before he stopped himself. “We can’t do this. The King has given me another job.”

“What job?”

“Can’t tell you. Not safe. And if you see me, you don’t know me.”

Nori let Dwalin fist one large hand in his hair and pull his head back to look into his eyes. He hoped that the warrior would read the truth in his face: that Nori couldn’t have Dwalin, because he could never keep him safe. 

As it was, he still had nightmares: Dwalin kidnapped, Dwalin drowning, Dwalin walking across a dusty street with an arrow aimed at his unprotected back, seconds away from death. And he, Nori, had been helpless to save him, helpless to prevent the damage inflicted by Nori’s enemies on the warrior who was only there because he’d been helping Nori.

After a long moment, Dwalin’s brow furrowed. His eyes looked haunted. “One last time, then,” Dwalin whispered. 

One last time, before Nori went back to being Nyr the juggler and low-life, King Dis’ eyes and ears in the tent village now christened New Manarbul. Naturally, the disreputable Nyr wouldn’t know any of the nobles of Erebor – and if they were seen together, the noble would be in danger and Nyr’s usefulness as a spy would be over. But until then…

Nori swallowed. “One last time.”

Dwalin nodded and backed him toward the sleeping-chamber tucked deep into the living rock of the mountain. 

When he was holding himself back, Dwalin had been nearly overwhelming. Once Nori said yes, he became a force of nature. Even as they moved toward the sleeping chamber, his big rough hands were everywhere, his mouth plundered Nori’s, kissing hungrily. Nori moaned. This was bad, very bad—Dwalin knew him too well, had learned exactly how and where to touch until all Nori wanted was to let him take whatever he wanted. 

As they reached the bed, Nori’s shirt came off with a rip, discarded in a corner. His trousers followed. Nori tilted his head back, shaking with anticipation as he exposed the tender skin of his neck to Dwalin. He felt his wet tongue lick a stripe along his jugular, and fought his instinctive urge to push away from the tickling sensation. Then Dwalin bit down and sucked, the bright shock of pain a welcome relief to his senses. Nori gasped.

Nori’s bed was luxuriously large, heaped with pillows and soft coverlets, much more than he needed just for sleeping. It had been his quiet retreat, a solitary space that was his alone. As they collapsed together onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, he realized that it would no longer be just his bed. It would always have memories of Dwalin.

Dwalin’s teeth dragged across his skin, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks all over his body. The sharp shock of pain, the bright sensation tingled and ached all the way down to his cock. 

The last time. The bittersweet ache of it hurt too much, hurt more than the hard tweaks of Dwalin’s powerful fingers, the pull on his hair, the punishing bites glowing with the heat of a new bruise. Never again, never again to feel all this passion, this desire for him—it was agony. But it couldn’t be any other way. 

Frantically he pulled off Dwalin’s clothes, yanking at buckles and leather and shoving the linen tunic over his head to expose that gorgeous torso, inked and furred and taut with muscle. 

He pushed Dwalin onto his back and climbed astride his hips, rubbing his own rock-hard cock against Dwalin’s still clothed member. “I want you to fuck me now, soldier, need you buried inside me.”

.

Pressure was building inside of Dwalin, tension ratcheting up with no release. Sensations and emotions thundered through him, leaving him breathless and floating. 

Nori, brilliant Nori, was in his arms, shuddering and moaning and wanting everything he had to give. He exulted in the feel of Nori’s body, in knowing that Nori had missed him too, wanted him too. Whatever the red-haired dwarf’s reasons for what he’d done, right now they both wanted the same thing. 

“Come here,” he growled, drawing Nori down for a kiss, tangling the fingers of one hand in that beautiful wealth of soft hair, while his other hand reached down to knead that perfect ass. Nori bent down easily, his hair falling like curtains around their faces. When they were lying chest to chest, Dwalin tightened his arms and rolled them both over so that he was on top. 

“Hey,” yelped Nori indignantly.

He grinned down at Nori. “Gotta take my pants off.” He propped himself on one elbow as he struggled with the laces. Somehow they had gotten knotted together, and he couldn’t untie them without looking. The knot got tighter as he pulled on it. 

Nori gave a snort. “Like this, soldier.” At a flick of his clever fingers, the laces parted obediently. Dwalin’s trousers seemed to fall away effortlessly. 

Dwalin huffed a little self-conscious laugh. “You’re good at that,” he said.

Nori grinned. “Maybe I just want you.”

“Good to know,” Dwalin purred. Satisfaction bloomed in his chest. “Was hoping you’d say that.”

Mahal, it felt so good. There was nothing better than this—he could stay in this bed with Nori for the rest of his life. 

He reached down to kiss Nori’s mouth again, his free hand roaming down between them to wrap his hand around Nori’s cock. Nori arched his hips toward him with a groan. The lean dwarf’s busy hands were stroking Dwalin’s length, rolling his stones, distracting him so much he could barely concentrate.

“Need some slick,” Dwalin muttered, and with one hand Nori reached to one side of the bed and produced that small tin of the salve he favored. Taking a generous amount, Dwalin coated his fingers. He looked into Nori’s eyes, asking for permission.

“Mahal, yes,” Nori breathed. So carefully, watching Nori’s face, Dwalin sunk one finger deep into Nori’s body. Nori moaned deep in his throat, his head flung back at the thrill of this first touch, tightening his nimble fingers around Dwalin’s shaft. 

This is what Dwalin wanted to see, the clever thief unmasked and needy, spread wide for him. He drank in the sight with single-minded concentration: Nori’s lids half-closed over those green-gold eyes, long hair spread like licks of ruddy fire around his slack face. Dwalin had put that abandoned expression on Nori’s face. Dwalin had coaxed those sinful moans from his lips. What Dwalin felt deep inside, he could see in Nori’s face and body: It was a rush of power and a soothing balm to his heart.

He gently worked his finger until a second one could be accepted, and then a third. Then Nori’s eyes had fluttered open and he pushed at Dwalin’s shoulder. Obligingly, Dwalin rolled onto his back. Nori straddled him, his handss on Dwalin’s shoulders for leverage. 

With agonizing slowness, Nori lowered himself onto Dwalin’s cock. The big dwarf held still, breathing raggedly and waiting as the tight slick heat of Nori’s body gradually pulled him in. His eyes focused on the ‘o’ of Nori’s mouth, on the strong legs tensing around his hips as he rose and fell on Dwalin’s cock. 

Nori was gorgeous, almost glowing with power, a debauched Vala demanding to be worshipped. Dwalin watched the way the muscles of his chest and abdomen flexed as he moved, the way that waterfall of red-brown silk flicked over his biceps and across his nipples each time he drove himself down onto Dwalin with a groan.

He was never going to get enough of Nori.

Here in the warm flickering torchlight, with the sounds of their lust echoing off the stone walls of the bedchamber, there was nothing to come between them, no secrets, no duties. All that mattered was the single point where their two bodies became one, a pulse of incandescent heat that grew until it exploded outward to engulf them both.

When Dwalin came back to himself, Nori was lying sprawled across him in boneless content.

He tightened his arms a little, smiling in satisfaction, then stroked Nori’s hair as the lean dwarf grumbled a sleepy protest. This was good. This was very good. 

Dwalin tucked a strand of hair behind Nori’s ear. “We could do this,” he suggested. He breathed evenly, keeping his body relaxed, as if it were not a big deal.

Nori’s face was buried in his chest, so he could only guess at the smile he felt forming against his pec. 

“This,” Nori murmured. 

“Just—this,” Dwalin said. Aware that he wasn’t explaining this very well, he added gruffly, “If it’s got to be a secret, and this is all I can have. That is—I mean, I can do casual.”

Nori lifted himself up on his elbows and gazed seriously into Dwalin’s eyes. “I want you more than casual, soldier. But I need you safe. If anyone knew about us—”

“I know. I get it. But this—” Dwalin stroked one hand down Nori’s silky hair, then over his nude shoulder to settle on his waist. He tightened his fingers slightly, holding on to the firm, warm flesh of the only dwarf he wanted.

Nori smiled wryly. “That’s thinking with wrong head.” 

Dwalin sighed and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “So use the other head, and come up with a plan.”

“I don’t see how. I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to slip away from the tent village. And Nyr the juggler can’t be caught sending messages to the Royal Guard barracks—”

Dwalin propped himself up on one elbow and grinned down at the thief, his lover. “Haven’t you heard? A new sheriff is coming to the tent village. New Manarbul’s got a new Keeper of the Peace—me.”

Dwalin gloated as he watched Nori’s jaw drop. He knew his new job was probably only going to make their lives more difficult. But then again, he had been waiting a long time to see Nori completely shocked. For this moment, it was worth it.


	22. Crown Jewels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut. And a little role-playing. This is the final chapter -- I hope you all enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's anything to warn for here, but please let me know if there's anything I've overlooked.

Dwalin’s role as the brand-new Keeper of the Peace in the brand-new village of New Manarbul kept him too busy to think for the first several weeks. He had to recruit a guard force, train them, set up schedules, lay out the routes for them to walk, and come up with rules for them to follow. 

Late one night, Dwalin sat at his desk in the Peacekeeper’s tent. He kneaded his aching forehead, trying to estimate how long it would take a patrol to cover the area along the riverbank. Just one patrol, or should there be two? 

The flame in his lantern flickered. A slender body pressed against his back and a knife rested against his throat. 

Without moving his head, Dwalin slewed his eyes to one side, catching a glimpse of a braided red-brown beard. “Where have you been.”

The knife moved away from his throat, but the thief’s body leaned harder into his back as Nori peered over his shoulder with a grin. 

“Here and there.” Nori looked down at his notes. “Why are you doing that?”

Dwalin let himself relax against Nori’s solid chest. Mahal, he felt good. It had been too long. “Somebody’s got to.” 

“I’ll get Vilna to help you,” Nori said. Suddenly, the cold air was flowing against Dwalin’s back again. Nori was gone.

Dwalin sighed and tried to focus on his work. “Damn tease,” he muttered to the empty room. 

.

Nori’s dry and precise assistant Vilna turned up the next morning. In her capable hands, the schedules suddenly worked, plans came together, and the life of the Peacekeeper was vastly improved. Now Dwalin was able to concentrate on training the humans and dwarves who would be assisting him – a part of the job he liked much better.

He patrolled with the new recruits, showing them what to look for and what to ignore. It had been a surprise to discover that some humans would try to stop dwarves from doing perfectly natural things, like digging holes in the ground, and would let dwarves do things that were not natural at all, like teaching a human khuzdul. Apparently the reverse was also true, so it was a good thing that the peacekeeping teams consisted of a dwarf and a human together. 

He was making the rounds with the young human Seth and an eager young dwarven recruit when he felt someone brush by him, bumping into his side though there was plenty of space along the broad dirt road. He felt his sides. His wallet and weapons were still in place, but something crackled in his pocket. It was a piece of paper. 

When he got back to the peacekeeper’s tent, he looked at the message – just a few random numbers, almost like a time of day. He burned the paper over the lantern flame.

As he walked out of the tent, he told Vilna, “I have to go to see the King.”

She nodded efficiently, then gave him one of her rare smiles. 

.

King Dis was up in her favorite room, high up near the summit of the mountain. Sunlight streamed in through high clerestory windows, and a fire burned against the chill of the mountain air. Dis was feeding a biscuit to the Raven Matriarch when Dwalin was announced. 

“I’m here to give my report,” he told her. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Nice of you to come in person. Is there something wrong?”

“No.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he explained about the progress they had been making, and made a few suggestions to speed up the process of turning the tent village into an organized and prosperous city.

When he was finished, the king thanked him with grave seriousness, not a hint of a smile on her face. But he couldn’t shake the impression that she was amused for some reason, so he watched her suspiciously for a few moments before bowing himself out of the room. 

.

His duty done, Dwalin walked to that forgotten corner of Erebor where Nori’s secret apartment was. He banged on the door, but Nori wasn’t there. 

Dwalin frowned down at the ground and scratched the back of his head. 

A short way from the ground, roughly calf-high on a dwarf, Dwalin noticed a few strands of red brown hair caught between Nori’s front door and the doorjamb. They were positioned too low for even Nori’s long hair to have been caught accidentally. 

Dwalin hummed, looking closer at the ground near the door. A pile of rocks, not more than pebbles, had been scattered near the corridor wall. An imaginative person might have thought they were arranged into a rough arrow shape, pointing toward a staircase that mounted toward another old section of Erebor, part of the mountain that hadn’t been restored yet. Almost hidden under the pebbles was a small brass key. 

He picked the key up and strode casually down the stairs, eyes sweeping left and right. A green bead was lying on the ground at the entrance to a tunnel on the left, like it had rolled into the corner after falling from a dwarf’s hair. Dwalin shook his head and walked down the tunnel, his sensitive hearing tuned to the echoes of the deep caverns under the mountains. He could hear the clang of pickaxes in the mines, down deep below.

A tiny gem, a scrap of emerald no bigger than a poppy seed, winked up at him from the floor when he swept his torch into the mouth of a narrow hallway. More scattered pebbles had fallen into an arrow pointing the way. This part of the mountain held nothing but store rooms and vaults. It was cold and dark this far into the mountain – not that either condition bothered Dwalin. Dwarves are creatures of the stone, and their thick bodies are well-insulated against the cold, retaining heat the same way stone traps the warmth of the sun. 

Dwalin didn’t feel cold at all – he felt warmth, heat, anticipation. He knew by some sixth sense that he was close to his goal. Close to winning this little game. 

He finally came to a small door banded with steel, set into the living rock. The corridor was empty, echoing hollowly. It looked like no one ever came to this place – Dwalin had certainly never been down here before. He took the key out of his pocket and was not surprised to find that it opened the door. 

Inside, the room blazed with light and warmth. Torches in iron stands illuminated the vault. The torchlight bounced off mirrors of mithril, shone on the gold-plated headboard and footboard of the large bed in the middle of the room, and warmed the purple silk of the bedsheets and pillows. 

On the bed, wearing nothing but the most exquisite jewelry, reclined Nori. “Hello, soldier. About time you got here.”

For a long moment Dwalin drank in the sight of his lover. This was how he wanted Nori fixed into his memory forever – long hair unbound, eyes bright as gemstones, smile like a wicked crescent moon, his proud cock surrounded by its soft nest of red curls.

The diadem on Nori’s brow was ancient, wrought of gold and sacred malachite into the stylized shape of the Raven of Erebor. The decorative bands zig-zagging across his braided beard were made of equally precious materials, gleaming with gems and fine enamel. Earrings dangled from his ears, rings flashed on his fingers, cuffs of thick gold studded with diamonds circled wrists and ankles, and hoops of gold decorated his piercings.

Dwalin’s lips twisted, one corner of his mouth lifting in involuntary appreciation. “Are those the Crown Jewels you’re wearing?”

Nori grinned. “What Dis doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes. Nori was pure nerve.

The thief added, “But I hear she’s planning to wear it to the reception for Thranduil tonight. So, let’s get a move on, soldier. Why are you still dressed?”

.

Nori lay back and watched as Dwalin undressed. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face – he just hoped he wasn’t actually drooling. 

Dwalin was glaring at him, those well-cut lips drawn back from his teeth in a magnificent snarl as he clawed his own clothes off. Massive biceps bunched and stretched, heavy shoulders shrugged off the layers of clothing – finally Dwalin stood naked, like a weapon unsheathed.

Nori held still, his heart thumping and chin lifted as Dwalin stalked toward him. He was almost shaking with the effort of looking careless and relaxed as he lay on the bed, pricklingly aware of how vulnerable he was—no clothes, no knives, nothing between him and Dwalin except the delicate scraps of gold and jewelry he wore. 

He wanted to laugh. Dwalin was furious with him, he could see it in his eyes—such an honest dwarf, how he hated it when Nori stole (but of course Nori would never really steal the Ereborean Crown Jewels. Who would buy them? Nobody but the King could wear the damn things and they were too beautiful to break down. Then again, an unscrupulous and secretive collector…No, no, he was really just borrowing the King’s jewels).

“I should wring your beautiful thieving neck,” the big dwarf said as he climbed up onto the bed and ranged himself over Nori. One big hand ghosted up Nori’s naked shoulder and up the side of his neck, under his beard. Nori shivered and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He could feel Dwalin’s fingertips pressing against the back of his neck while the thumb of the same hand pressed Nori’s chin up. Their mouths met, Dwalin’s kiss savage and biting. “You’re a disgrace to Erebor.”

Nori reached up to twine his arms around Dwalin’s neck. “Did you run?” he whispered, pulling him down to lie on top of him. “When you got my message, did you drop everything and hurry up here to find me?”

Dwalin’s arms went around him then, the full weight of his heavy body pressing down and his arms tightening in a bone-crushing hug. He buried his face in Nori’s shoulder.

“No,” Dwalin said, voice muffled. Then he lifted his weight off Nori, resting on one elbow and looking down with his lip curled in a sneer. “I only came up to Erebor to give my report to King Dis.”

Nori didn’t believe that for a minute. “Did you ask her where I was?”

“No, of course not.” 

Nori shoved at Dwalin’s chest, and Dwalin obligingly rolled off him. The center points of the crown dug uncomfortably into Nori’s forehead, and the beard-ornaments weighted down his beard. The bracelets around his wrists and ankles felt good and solid, though. He could see the warm glow of gold and the flash of the gems as he moved. Decked out like a King, wearing the wealth of a nation—it was a powerful feeling.

Rising to kneel on the bed, Nori straightened the Raven Crown and struck a pose. “Bend low before me. I’m the King now.”

“King of Thieves, maybe,” Dwalin replied with a snort. “What is it with you and that crown? This is the second time you’ve stolen it.” 

But he was smiling, and the way he was eyeing Nori was appreciative enough. The big dwarf looked ready to play along.

So, let the game begin. “You are my subject. Lie back and spread your legs,” Nori ordered.

The big dwarf tensed and that stubborn, mulish look spread over his face. Nori stared at him haughtily, waiting. Dwalin didn’t give up control readily. It was too contrary to his masterful nature. But they had been apart for a long time, and Nori could sense Dwalin’s desire was as strong as his own. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he coaxed.

Reluctantly, Dwalin wiggled down onto his back. Nori pushed his legs wide apart, kneeling between them, but the big dwarf jerked away from his touch with a short bark of laughter. “Tickles.”

“Shh. Hold still,” Nori admonished. Slicking his hands with scented oil, he began massaging the big muscles of the warrior’s legs, stroking and kneading the hard flesh. Dwalin’s arousal became more obvious as Nori’s hands worked up his thighs. Nori wrapped one hand around his lover’s stiffening cock, using the other hand to roll his stones back and forth. Dwalin groaned and fisted his hands in the sheets on either side as his hips bucked up into Nori’s grip. 

Everything about Dwalin was beautiful. So dangerous, so strong and fierce. He wouldn’t let anyone else see him like this, wouldn’t submit to anyone else. Only Nori.

Nori smiled down at him. He couldn’t resist teasing. “Now, say Nori is my liege lord.”

Dwalin’s eyes sprang open. “I’ll be damned if I do,” he growled, beginning to sit up. 

With one hand on his chest, Nori pushed him lightly back. “No? You don’t have to. Just relax, soldier.” 

Dwalin relaxed again, and Nori turned his attention to the warrior’s nipples, sucking and teasing them. But soon one big arm wrapped around his back and a hand began to lift his face up to Dwalin’s for a kiss. 

Nori allowed it for a moment, then disentangled himself from the big dwarf’s arms. “You’re a rebellious subject,” he complained. “Lie back.”

Dwalin gave an exaggerated sigh and lay back, twisting a lock of Nori’s hair around his fingers. “When do I get to fuck you?”

“When I say,” Nori said firmly, stroking Dwalin’s chest, tracing the patterns of tattoos and scars down to his navel. Dwalin was breathing a little bit harder now, as Nori began to nibble his way back down toward his erection, which was standing up and begging for attention. 

Dwalin breathed his name, and Nori lowered his mouth down around the big dwarf’s cock. He was rewarded with a choked groan, and looked up to see Dwalin gazing down at him, his face slack with desire. Nori held his gaze as he licked and sucked, swirling his tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the salty, musky flavor of him. Dwalin’s thighs trembled.

He lifted his head and grinned. “So, how would you like to be royally fucked?” 

In answer, Dwalin grabbed him under his arms and dragged him up until their lips could meet, desperately thrusting his tongue into Nori’s mouth. Playfulness was gone, swept away by the warrior’s passion. 

“Now,” he said, pulling back for air. “Fuck, now.”

The raven crown tilted onto Nori’s ear as he was rolled onto his back beneath Dwalin’s weight. Nori exulted in the raw emotion he’d drawn from his lover. Dwalin pinned him to the bed, kissing him relentlessly as he opened Nori with his fingers. 

Nori gasped and arched up to grind his hips into the warrior’s and Dwalin slung one of the smaller dwarf’s legs over his shoulder, then pressed in deep. He thrust hard, driving himself in, setting a burning pace. Nori moved against him, meeting every thrust, changing the angle of his hips until he felt each stroke reaching that spot, setting off sparks behind his eyes each time. 

Dwalin’s fist closed around Nori’s cock, stroking roughly, just enough friction to throw Nori over the edge into bliss. Dwalin followed, tensing on one last thrust, filling Nori with warmth.

Panting, they lay tangled together, Nori’s head resting in the hollow between Dwalin’s shoulder and chest. They would have to leave soon; the Crown Jewels would have to be slipped back into the safe and Dwalin would have to return to his work. 

Nori sighed. He was a thief, always would be. Precious things slipped through a thief’s fingers, held for just a moment before they had to be let go. There was nothing in life he could cling to for long, not even Dwalin. All he could do was savor the rare moments they could steal together. 

Maybe they could steal some more time together, soon. If Dwalin wanted—that was the question. Would he want to live like this, loving a thief? Could he?

Breaking the peaceful silence, Nori asked, “Was it worth the wait?”

Dwalin’s arms tightened around him. “Worth it.”

.

 

As it turned out, the Crown Jewels could be packed up into a surprisingly small bundle. Dwalin looked at the rough cloth bag tucked under his thief’s arm, then up into Nori’s bright eyes. He wasn’t ready to leave. He wanted to ask how long it would be before they could be together again. But of course, there was no way to be sure. He would just have to wait until Nori sent him another note. 

He groped for something to say, some random bit of conversation to delay the moment of parting. Nodding at the cloth bag, he said, “You know, I’ll never look at that crown the same way again.”

“Don’t tell King Dis,” Nori said with a wink. “Probably just upset her.” 

The thief turned away, then turned back to look at Dwalin again. He tilted his head to one side. “I’ll send word to you soon?”

Dwalin nodded. “Soon as you can.”

He was rewarded with a blinding smile, and then Nori slipped down the corridor, a spring in his step as he danced off to some new adventure. 

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone is doing it, I just wanted to add that you can find me on Tumblr at http://really-saraleee.tumblr.com/


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